Hearts Desire
by Yuriko Tsukino
Summary: AU. See inside for full summery. AxR Chapter editing in progress.
1. Meeting

Summary: AU. Amon is a High school Literature teacher; Robin is a new student in his class. When he sees the way the other students treat her, he is unable to stand by and watch. How deeply do his feelings for her go? Will his interference do more harm than good? Read to find out!

A/N: AU. Deal with it. I had to change a few of the ages for this to work, namely, Karasuma is now 23, and Doujima is 17. The other characters kept their real ages. The school they are attending was origionaly supposed to be Japanese, but it ended up American. "Amon-sensei" just didn't sound right for some reason.

Editing Round 2! I'm hoping to correct the formatting that apparently doesn't feel like supporting any more, and tweaking some storyline problems. And maybe, hopefully, re-inspiring myself to finish this fic!

marathons WHR for the 8th time as she writes.

Please read and enjoy!

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter One: Meeting

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

All babble in room 204 ceased immediately upon the arrival of its instructor. Mr. Amon was notoriously strict; he was feared, and often hated by most of the student body. This didn't seem to occur to him, however, as his swept into his classroom a full ten minutes after the tardy bell had rung. This was quite a strange occurrence; Amon was usually the first teacher--or faculty member, period--into the school in the morning, and last one to leave each night, sometimes staying even later than the night janitor.

The explanation for his tardiness followed in his wake: a girl with her blonde hair up in buns, in a long, old fashioned black dress. She trailed Mr. Amon to his desk tentatively, as though unsure she had followed the right person. His rather cold personality did tend to have that effect on students. Especially new ones.

"Look," Haruto Sakaki whispered to the girl next to him. "Fresh meat."

Yurika Doujima grinned wickedly. "She's almost too easy. Look at that dress! Did she get it at Good Will or something? Wait; thrift stores haven't been around long enough for her to find something _that_ out of style!"

"What's up with her hair?" chimed in Michael Lee. "She's so--"

"Ahem."

Amon cleared his throat, taking his place at the front of the room. "We have a new student. This is Robin Sena. She's come here from Italy through the exchange program." He pointed to the only empty seat in the class, in the back of the room by the opposite wall as Doujima, Haruto, and Michael. "You can take that seat over there," he said. He picked up a spare text book from his desk and handed it to her. She moved to take her seat, and he continued with the class.

"Open your books to page 129; we'll be starting with the haiku at the bottom of the page. Michael, would you please read?"

00000

"May I sit here?"

The assembled group at the table where Robin was attempting to eat her lunch collectively rolled their eyes and moved away.

_Do I have the plague or something?_ she wondered. All day, people had been avoiding her. In fact, the only people to speak to her directly instead of whispering behind her back had been Principle Zaizen, Vice-Principle Kosaka, the counselor who had handled her transfer, Miss Karasuma, and her Honors Literature teacher, Mr. Amon. None of the other teachers had bothered to even take roll call, and as she always slipped into a seat in the back of the room, most of them hadn't even noticed they had a new student.

Robin looked around the crowded cafeteria. There were over a dozen long tables, most of them overflowing with students. Hers, however, was completely empty. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore; in fact, she felt somewhat sick. She gathered up her books and dumped her uneaten lunch into the trash.

It was wet and cold outside; the pouring rain was saved from becoming snow by a mere five degrees. But shivering beneath the overhang by the front doors was preferable to sitting alone amid the stares and whispers of her classmates.

Hugging herself, Robin leaned against a pillar, her books at her feet on a patch of dry concrete. _I want to go home_, she thought miserably as the wind changed, and blew chill, damp air across her neck.

She glanced through the window at the clock in the lobby. Only five more minutes until the bell for the next class. Her eyes fell on a group leaning against the wall, talking. Enjoying themselves. Being normal.

Robin's empty stomach clenched. She would never be normal.

00000

"Recertification will be on Saturday, March 16. The cost of the class is fifty dollars and is necessary if you plan on teaching next year. There'll be another class in June, but it will be seventy dollars. I think that's all of our new business."

"Thank you, Hattori," Zaizen said with a nod in the direction of the secretary. "That's it for our staff meeting today. You are all dismissed, but I would like to speak with you, Amon, and you too, Karasuma."

The other teachers and staff members left the room, except for Zaizen, Kosaka, Amon, and Karasuma.

"I would like to speak with you about our newest student," the principal began.

"Robin Sena, you mean?" Karasuma asked.

"Yes. She was sent from a Catholic school in Italy. As I'm sure you're both well aware from her transcripts, she's very bright; skipped her fourth grade year and has been in advanced classes since her freshman year, even though she's a year or two younger than the rest of her classmates."

"So she's only about fifteen, then?" Amon asked. Usually, his students, while labeled "gifted," didn't display much talent in their work. However, for a fifteen year old to be in eleventh grade Honors Literature, she would have to or be sent back to sophomore classes.

Zaizen nodded. "But her intelligence isn't why I wanted to speak with you about her. As I'm sure you noticed on her records, she's been involved in several...unusual incidents."

Amon nodded. There had been a list of three or four such events in her file; she had been attacked by other students, whose clothing had was said to catch on fire in the middle of the fight.

"She was searched after all of the incidents, but she wasn't carrying a lighter or matches or anything else that could have started the fires. No one has any idea what happened, only that she must somehow have started them since it happened to three different students or groups of students."

"You suspect her of being a witch, then?" Karasuma asked. Zaizen nodded.

"But still, there's no proof that she actually started them?" Amon asked.

"How else _could_ they have started?"

Amon chose not to answer. Something about this whole situation didn't seem right.

"I want you two to find the answer to that question," Zaizen stated, leaning back in his chair. "Amon, you're her teacher; according to Father Juliano, her guardian back in Italy, she's always gotten along better with her teachers than her peers, especially those relating to the language arts, which are her forté. That's why we put her in you're class, and not Muroi's; you don't put up with nonsense and you don't get emotionally involved with your students on any level. You can do your job well and indiscriminately.

"Karasuma, you're the junior-senior counselor. A good portion of students confide in you, especially when they're at the end of their rope. And they trust you. Robin will probably end up in your office eventually. See if you can find out anything about those fires."

"Yes sir."

"That's all," Zaizen said. "I'll speak to you two again within the next few weeks to hear what you've found out."

"Yes sir," Karasuma repeated.

Again, Amon said nothing. There was something about this that gave him a feeling of _Wrong_.

00000

"She's so weird."

"Not exactly social is she?"

"How did someone that young end up in an Honors class?"

"She thinks she's so good."

Robin slid a little lower in her hard plastic chair, wishing it would swallow her whole.

_I hope Mr. Amon gets here soon..._ she thought. There were a few more minutes until the tardy bell, so the students were taking advantage of his absence to whisper, none to discretely, about the new student. .

Robin hunched over her seat. She felt like their whispers and candid stares were pushing down on her shoulders. She wished more than anything she could become invisible instead of...

Mr. Amon finally arrived, just as the bell rang. He cast a quick glance at Robin. She looked away quickly. She didn't want _anyone_ to notice her.

Amon waited at the front of the room for everyone to be quiet. When the last conversation stopped, he began. "Today we will be continuing our unit on poetry. We will be starting on page 131. Robin, would you please read?"

Robin glanced up in shock as Mr. Amon moved to his desk. Hesitantly, rose from her seat, book in hand, and began.

"Robin, please start over and speak loudly. I can't hear you," Amon said tersely. She would learn very quickly to get things right the first time in his class. He didn't have time to waste on those who didn't put forth their best effort in every aspect of their lives, school work included.

Robin swallowed hard, obviously nervous and unaccustomed to public speaking. He would have to work on that.

She began again, this time in a loud clear voice. A little wobbly at first, but picking up speed and enthusiasm as she read. Even if she _was_ nervous, it was the best reading he had heard in his class. She didn't stumble over the words like the other idiots. Her enunciation and pronunciation were perfect. She read with _feeling_.

And she was _Italian_.

When the poem was over, she sat down quickly, clearly eager to hide again. Something must be done about _that_, too. He was getting the same feeling of _wrong_ that he had the night before at the faculty meeting. A pretty, intelligent girl like her shouldn't be hiding in the back of the class as though the chalk erasers might jump out at any time and attack her.

00000

_Only one more period to go_, Robin thought tiredly a week later. She let her books fall with a thump onto her desk in the history classroom. She was feeling somewhat sick; she hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, and had skipped lunch again to avoid being around so many people. All of those eyes made her nervous.

She slumped into her seat, glad to sit. Low blood sugar was making her hands and knees shake. The tardy bell rang, and the teacher began his class introduction from his desk.

"We're starting our WWII project today. I'm going to split you into pairs, and each pair will represent a country. It will be your job to represent that country's interests in WWII. You have two days to do research. On Friday, we will begin with a Model-UN simulation, in which you will act out those country's roles with the information you have gathered. It will be interesting to see how this war plays out." The teacher reached for a list on his desk. "These will be your groups."

Robin zoned out momentarily until she heard her name. "Robin Sena. You will be with Yurika Doujima. Your country is England."

Across the room, Doujima gave Robin a withering look. She looked away quickly and resisted the urge to just curl up in a ball right there. Doujima was probably the person she most wished to avoid at school. She often heard Doujima making fun of her in a loud voice she was intended to hear, or sending her smug looks over whispered conversations.

"Since you only have two days, get together with your partner now and begin discussing your plans," the teacher said. He yawned, and turned back to the solitaire game on his laptop as the students shuffled around the room.

_Just try to be nice_, Robin thought as she took the seat in front of Doujima. _Maybe she's not as bad as she comes off_. "So, it looks like we're England. That's not so bad.

It's better than being Germany at least."

"No duh, Captain Obvious. And let me make one thing clear before we get too deep into this. Research is not my thing. Neither are you."

_Scratch that idea._

00000

"Remind me again why I'm in the library at lunch and not hanging out?"

Robin fought back a sigh. In the half hour they had been in the school library, Doujima had surfed six celebrity web pages, taken two quizzes, and was currently leafing though a magazine. She complained the entire time. Robin, on the other hand, was buried in encyclopedias and history books, with four pages of notes laid out in front of her.

"We're supposed to be researching for our history project," she said, trying very hard and very unsuccessfully to keep her voice level and quiet in the half filled library. "It's due in four periods, and we only have half of our research done. Because I've been the only one working on it."

"Well excuse me for having a _life_. There are other places I'd like to be after school than in the library."

"Maybe it would go faster if you helped."

"I have better things to do with my time than look up irrelevant history facts. Besides, you've taken enough notes, we can't possible need much more information." Doujima pulled one of the pages across the table. "...Not that these are going to do much good. What is this crap?"

"It's Italian. Since you obviously didn't plan on working, I just put the notes in Italian, which is easier for me."

Doujima's face went red and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Hello. I have a reputation. It would look bad if I weren't the one presenting the report."

"So I just do the leg work for you to take the credit?"

"It's not like you have anything better to do," Doujima snapped, her voice raising ever so slightly. "I've been watching you, Sena. You don't have any friends. A friend of mine lives on the same street as you, and she said that the "exchange family" you're supposed to be living with doesn't exist--they moved out two weeks ago." Her expression was becoming more and more dangerous, and her voice continued to rise. "You're an anti-social know-it-all and a social reject. You don't even have any hobbies. You're a pitiful excuse for a human. A complete freak!" By now Doujima was standing. Her expression was now at it's most fearful--placid and calm. Her words were loud enough to carry over the entire library. Robin glanced at the librarian's desk, but she wasn't there. The students at the tables around them were looking up with interest. Some of them shot smirks at Robin.

"You don't even deserve to be called a person."

Everyone was looking now. Robin looked down at her hands, squeezing them into tight fists.

"You're vermin, Robin Sena. You don't belong here. You never will."

Robin rose from her seat, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as her fists, and in a strangled voice, whispered, "I know."

Turning on her heel, she ran from the library, not caring that she had left her books and notes behind.

00000

The halls were deserted. That was just as well. She needed to find some place to hide. Some place where she could regain her composure. The restrooms were out. They were too obvious. No way would she go to the counselor. Miss Karasuma had seemed nice when they had first met, but she would never understand. She would tell Robin that she shouldn't listen to Doujima. That there was nothing to worry about. That plenty of people liked her.

But none of that was true. People actually _got up and moved away _every time she sat near or, heaven forbid, beside them. Robin wasn't normal. She had always stood out, try as she might to fit in. Growing up in a convent made her choice of clothing seem strange, but she would never be comfortable in tight jeans and short shirts, so she could never fit in visibly. But there were other things that set her apart. Things she wished didn't exist.

Miss Karasuma wouldn't understand what it was like to be hated because you were allowed to skip a grade. What it was like to never get along with people your own age. What it was like to never have a real friend. What it was like to hurt people without meaning to. What it was like to have everyone pull away from you. To never be touched.

Robins feet took her to the back doors of the school. Outside, dreary, cold, February rain continued to fall, just as it had all week.

It was only thirty-five degrees, but to Robin, it looked like a sanctuary. She pushed open the door and continued running though the half frozen puddles and muddy gravel of the parking lot. She passed between two SUV's, and—

Ran smack into a very solid feeling chest.

00000

Mr. Amon was Robin's favorite teacher for several reasons. He didn't ask questions. He didn't get involved. He didn't try to "help" like most of the teachers. Not to mention the fact that his class was the only one Robin was free from teasing in, he was a great teacher, and her highest grade was in his class. He wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, either.

Mr. Amon--the owner of the chest she had smacked into--hadn't asked why she was out in the cold rain without a jacket or why she was crying or why she was outside, period, in the middle of the school day. No. He merely escorted her into his classroom, which was near the exit that led to the parking lot and turned on the little space heater behind his desk to allow her to dry off. In fact, she had been in his room for almost ten minutes before he even spoke.

"You are aware that students are not permitted to leave the premises during lunch hour, correct?"

"Yes." _Just give me a detention. I don't care. It's not like there's anyone waiting for me at "home" anyway._

"Then why were you outside?"

Robin didn't look up. She didn't want to say the truth. She didn't want to have to repeat all of the hurtful--but truthful--things Doujima had said. Didn't want to get an adult involved. Adults would only make it worse. Eventually, things would blow over if she didn't say anything. Adults would only prolong it. Make everyone resent her even more.

She couldn't think of a good excuse, so she stayed silent.

"I see."

Amon rose from his chair. "I'll let you off this time. But you should know that I don't believe in second chances. There are too many things in life where you only get one chance. To expect more would be unrealistic."

"Then why are you letting me off this time?"

The bell rang then, and the hall was filled the sounds of students heading off to their next class.

"You need to go."

_But you didn't answer my question!_ she wanted to say. But she knew he was right. While her next class was down this same hall, she needed to double back in the opposite direction on the first floor to get her books from the library. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to make it in time.

Reluctantly, Robin left.

00000

_Why are you letting me off this time?_

Amon rested his forehead in one hand. He had slipped. He had almost shown--no, he _had_ shown a sign of affection towards a student, by letting her off. He would have written up any other student so fast his head would still be spinning by the time he was deposited at the front office.

_She's a good student. And she's new,_ he rationalized. _And she's foreign. Don't most European schools have open campus?_

He himself had been out at his car to retrieve the worksheets he was handing back in his next class. Somehow, he had forgotten them that morning. He had been busy berating himself, and hadn't noticed the teenage projectile hurling herself between the rows of cars. When she had looked up at him with those tear filled eyes...

He shook his head. Even as he came up with excuses for his behavior, deep down he knew the truth. And he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to ignore it.


	2. Until Monday

A/N: I don't own WHR.

This is chapter two, version two. There is one scene here that has been massively edited.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Two: Until Monday

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

Neither Amon nor Robin were quite sure how, but Robin ended up eating lunch in his classroom the following Monday. And the day after. And every day that week. While she was uninvited, she wasn't unwelcome, not that Amon would ever admit it. In some ways, it was nice to have her company, even though it was silent. At least it kept her from trying to skip school again.

For Robin's part, having lunch with the silent instructor was much preferable to eating in the cafeteria. _Everyone_ left her alone when she was in Amon's company. And there were books in Amon's room. Poetry, classic novels, Shakespearian plays, mythology. _Hamlet, _ _The Iliad, _ _Jane Eyre, Great Expectations_. While others would have cringed at the sight of the books, they were like air for Robin. She had spent hours in the convent library, absorbing anything she could. She wished she could read each and every one of them.

Amon watched her every day, and her interest in his collection did not go unnoticed, even if both parties pretended to ignore each other. Robin ate in the back of the room in the seat she occupied during class, while Amon graded papers and created tests and worksheets for whatever they were studying at the time. But he still saw the way she eyed his texts, especially the poetry.

"You can borrow one of those, if you like," he said one day. The sound of his voice surprised him. He hadn't meant to say anything, though he had been debating letting her borrow a book or two for a while. She was his best student, after all, and she had an interest in the subject.

She glanced up at him quickly, as though unsure he had actually spoken. "Really?"

For the first time in the two weeks she had been attending school, Amon heard joy in her voice.

He shrugged, trying to pretend he was immune to her happiness. "It doesn't make sense to have dozens of perfectly good books just sitting on a shelf if no one is going to read them," he said.

Robin knelt beside the shelf, and he knew almost immediately what book she would choose. She had been eyeing it more than the others. She reached out, closing her hands on the volume he had predicted. Such lovely hands. So slim and delicate...

NO.

"This one," she said, almost to herself. It was a volume of poetry by Emily Dickenson. It didn't surprise Amon in the least that that was the book she wanted. It suited her personality perfectly.

_What do I know about her personality?_

"Thank you very much," Robin said sincerely as the bell rang. Something that was very, very close to a smile curled at her lips. Another first.

In response, Amon merely shrugged again. "Hurry up or you'll be late.

00000

Robin's pen swirled doodles over the page of her English notebook. She should have been taking notes on freestyle poetry, but she was having trouble focusing. While she heard Amon's voice, she couldn't pay attention. She was too busy listening. She closed her eyes briefly and let the sound of it wash over her. His voice was smooth and firm. It was never raised, but it was always heard.

As much as she enjoyed the time they spent in silent reading, lectures were her favorite classes, because she got to hear him speak. When he wasn't lecturing, Mr. Amon hardly talked at all. As it was, she thought his lectures weren't nearly long enough. He made all of the information as concise as possible, leaving out any irrelevant details. Presumably, this was so he would be finished sooner.

Robin wished he would go over the details. Over, and over, and over again.

It wasn't just his voice that was nice. He had a beautiful mouth to. Firm, just like the rest of him. For a split second, she imagined it doing something other than talking.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she ducked her head to hide her blush.

_This is getting ridiculous,_ she thought. For the last week, she'd hardly paid any attention in this class--she was too busy fantasizing. The only reason she did well in this class was because 1) Writing was easy for her and 2) she looked up everything she missed online after school, so she usually ended up with more information than she needed.

Robin glanced up again. Amon had his back to the class, writing examples up on the board. The winter sunshine leaking through the windows caught in his black hair. Robin wished she could touch it.

_I have to stop thinking like this,_ she thought. _For one thing, he's my teacher. For_

_another, he's got to be about ten years older than me, so it would be illegal for him to even touch me. And he's probably got a girlfriend. With looks like that, it would be amazing if he didn't. With that hair, and that voice. Not to mention those gorgeous grey eyes. And he's so intelligent to. He really _sees_ things. And...Where was I going with this again?_

Sighing, Robin ducked her head and tried to take notes. Maybe she'd do better if she wasn't looking at him.

00000

_I can't believe she's done with that already,_ Amon thought as Robin returned her latest book to the shelf. In the last week, she had taken out five books, and returned them all after only a day. And she had read them all; her ability to pick up on subtleties the authors had put into their work rivaled most college professors.

By far, her favorite books to read were the volumes of poetry. She was indiscriminate in which book she chose; she devoured the different styles and authors with the vigor of a man who hadn't eaten for a week sitting down to a seven-course meal.

Amon himself was very picky when it came to poetry. He wasn't fond of simplistic rhymes. He didn't care for poems about nature. Most of all, he disliked sonets and love poems. They were all senseless crap, even those written by the great masters of the pen, such as Shakespeare. He still found it amazing that that same person who created works such as _Hamlet_ and _Julius Caesar_ could have also written something as sappy and worthless as _Romeo and Juliet_. Even after four years of college and three years teaching, and countless seminars and discussions with his colleagues, he still couldn't understand how that drivel had become a classic, read by every high school literature class in the country.

Robin, however, loved all poetry, even the drivel.

She knelt beside the bookshelf, reading each title carefully, just as she did every day at this same time before choosing the next volume to read.

Amon opened his bottom desk drawer, removing a paperback.

"Robin."

She looked up at him with her clear green eyes. He had to force himself to keep a straight face and not stare into their depths.

"I have a book you might be interested in."

He held out the worn paperback. The front cover was creased and ready to fall off. Almost every page was dog-eared.

"The poems in here are a little depressing," he said. "But I think it's something you would enjoy." He held it out to her.

She accepted the book. While her face was calm as usual, he detected a hint of excitement and no little amount of curiosity in her eyes.

Her long, graceful fingers brushed his hand as they closed around the book. Amon tried to ignore the tingle that ran involuntarily up his arm and back down his spine. He also tried to ignore the way her hand lingered next to his; not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel the heat of her hand.

Amon wasn't sure whether or not he was glad the bell rang just then. It meant that he was saved from the internal battle over his self control, but it also meant that Robin was gone. Their privet time was over.

He watched her retreating form as she swept out of the classroom, her long skirt swishing over the floor.

Something in the way she carried herself when they were alone...She was like...And old-fashioned lady from a classic novel. She acted with elegance, grace, intelligence. But she was so different when alone among the throng. Because that was exactly it. Even in the crowded halls, being jostled and shoved, she was always alone.

Amon didn't understand it. She was so..._perfect_. A girl like her should have a hundred friends. But she didn't have a single one. He never saw her speak with anyone, and he watched her. More than he should. She hardly even spoke when her classmates belittled her, which happened quite often.

Was that why she never spoke? But why were they so cruel to her? Why did she even bother to listen to them? Surely she knew how special, how _wonderful_ she was.

No. He couldn't let that train of thought continue. It was far too dangerous.

00000

That evening found Robin sitting on her bed, the book from Amon open on her lap. It was much harder to read than the other books she had borrowed. She had to read many of the poems two or three times to comprehend what the writer was saying, and sometimes the meaning changed with each reading. She wasn't half as far in this book as she would have been with the others.

But she wasn't about to give up. The poetry, while depressing, was thought provoking. It was well written, truly a masterpiece. And when she slowed down, and gave thought to each piece, she realized that she knew exactly what the author meant. She could feel his futility at life as deeply as if it was her own. Because, in more ways than one, it was.

Those weren't the only reasons she kept reading. After only a few pages, she had

realized that this was Mr. Amon's _personal_ copy. He had obviously read it many times for it to become so worn. So in a way, wasn't it Amon's sadness too?

In the margins of some of the pages, there were notes scribbled in Amon's precise handwriting. Never more than a sentence, just little thoughts about a specific work. She read each of _those_ poems four or five times, and her eyes lingered over his notes even longer. In her mind, she could hear his voice repeating the words. And by reading his notes, she almost felt like she was listening to a conversation between him and the rest of the world. She learned more about him in the first fifty pages of that book than she had in three weeks in his class.

She ran her fingers over the note on her current page one more time before moving on. The next poem was incredibly sad. She could see that in her first initial reading. The second time, however, she truly felt the _depth_ of the writer's sorrow. The utter hopelessness. The complete loneliness.

Loneliness was a feeling Robin was quite intimate with.

The margin on this page contained two notes, one on either side of the title. "So true," and "Welcome to Reality."

Robin felt tears slowly fill her eyes. It was depressing enough to think that the author of that poem had felt so desolate. Worse still that she herself knew it too. But to see such total agreement from Amon, the person she wanted most to be happy...

She wasn't sure if she was crying for Amon, or from relief at finding she wasn't alone in her solitude.

00000

_That's the last time I fall asleep reading poetry..._ Robin thought tiredly as she rested her head on her folded arms. She had been up until almost three o'clock reading the poetry book. As it was, she had fallen asleep sitting up with the book in her lap, which had led to a nasty crick in her neck, and a very unrestful night. And now all of her thoughts had a poetic sort of beat to them. It was incredibly annoying.

Lack of sleep and depressing poetry weren't the only things weighing her down, however. Her day had gotten off to a rocky start from the first. She had slept through her alarm. She'd been so preoccupied with books lately, that she had neglected to do the week's laundry, which meant her favored attire of a long black dress was dirty. It had taken her nearly ten minutes to find the jeans and tee shirt buried in the back of her closet, which had made her even later, meaning there would be no breakfast, despite the fact that she was starving. It was raining _again_, and she had walked out of the apartment without her umbrella.

And without her key.

Upon finally getting to school, her drowned rat appearance was a source of entertainment for her classmates. Thankfully, she _had_ remembered her coat, so they couldn't make comments about a wet tee shirt contest. The fact that she was in something that passed for normal attire, however, only gave them more ammunition, which they were happy to fire at her. Not to mention the usual chorus of bird calls that followed her down the hall. Bird calls were an invention of none other than Doujima, who thought they were fitting because of her name.

At least she had gotten to class on time.

The tardy bell finally rang, and Amon rose to address the class. "This will be our

final week on poetry," he announced. If they had dared, Robin was sure that the class would have been cheering. "For our final project, you will each complete a series of at least ten poems in the format of your choice. They must be at least six lines apiece. Your poems are due next Monday.

"Next week, we will begin our transition from poetry into plays. We will do so by reading Shakespeare's _Hamlet_, which is written in verse.

"Today, however, you will begin work on your poems. You have until quarter 'til. That's thirty minutes. Please work quietly."

It took several moments, but Amon's words sank into her brain, very slowly. Using roughly the same pace as a sloth, she pulled a notebook and pen from her messenger bag. Slowly, she opened to a clean page, smoothing it out on her desk, and slowly she set her pen to paper.

00000

With ten minutes left to the bell, Amon rose from his seat an announced that they were to share what work they had completed.

Robin glanced at her page in horror. She couldn't share this! It was, by far, too personal.

Mr. Amon called on the first student, as there were no volunteers. Reluctantly, the student complied, rising from his seat and reciting the mundane attempt at a poem on his page. Obviously disgusted by this work, and trying hard to conceal it, Amon moved on to the next student, and the next. Neither of them had completed anything, much to his irritation.

The number of students before Robin was dwindling quickly. To lie and say she had written nothing was out of the question. There was no way she would put up with having a zero in the grade book for anything in this class. No--she would have to come up with something new. And fast. There were only three students left in her row.

Her tired mind was dry of creativity, however. The ever increasing cadence of _Think, think. There's no time to waste_ that flew across her brain prevented any thought.

The student in front of her was taking her seat, and still Robin's page was blank. Mr. Amon called her name; she froze.

"I--I don't have--"

At that instant, the bell rang, and never was it more welcomed by Robin. She leapt from her seat, snatching her messenger bag, and was one of the first out the door.

Once in the relative safety of the crowded halls, and far off from the Literature classroom, she rummaged through her bag for the notebook she needed in her next class.

_Wait. I only have three notebooks in here; I should have four..._

She pulled out her biology book; the one she had been searching for. Glancing at the covers of the two remaining, she realized instantly which one was missing.

She doubled back, moving as quickly as she could through a throng going the opposite direction. She knew she would be late--very late. But maybe she could get a pass from Mr. Amon. She couldn't leave that notebook in his possession. She couldn't let him read her poetry.

00000

With an inward sigh, Amon gathered up his laptop and the papers he needed to grade, shifting them all under one arm. Second period he was in charge if the study hall in the cafeteria. It wasn't his favorite duty, but at least it didn't require a lesson plan. Just a thick stack of detention slips and something to do.

He was about to leave the room, when he noticed something on a desk in the back of the room. Robin's desk.

He approached the desk to remove the article--a notebook--recalling offhandedly her strange behavior in class. While always shy, she had nearly panicked when he called on her. She hadn't done her class work, she had fled from the room, while normally she lingered, and now she had forgotten her notebook. Not to mention the fact that she wasn't in her usual dress, she spent the beginning of the class with her head on her arms, and her hair was wet and loose instead of in pigtails.

He picked up the notebook, and was surprised to find that there were not one, but two poems written in Robin's neat handwriting on the page. She had surpassed the assignment, while she had claimed to not have done it at all.

His eyes fell on the first stanza. He had never cared much for rhymed poetry. But this...

The pressure building deep inside

These feelings that I cannot hide

My walls slowly crumbling down

In my tears I'll soon drown

Crushed beneath this weight

Is loneliness to be my fate?

Stripped by their words, I lie

Wondering how soon I can die

Crying out to be set free

Can anyone hear my plea?

It was armature work to be sure, but it echoed the style of some of his favorite authors while still holding it's own somehow.

Most of all, it was the feeling of sincerity which struck him. Many authors wrote and wrote, but did not have any emotion behind their work. _This_ however, this was real. He could feel quite plainly that the words of this poem were only tip of the iceberg when it came to both Robin Sena's talent--and her pain.

Robin froze when she re-entered the classroom. There stood Mr. Amon, by her desk, holding her notebook. His lips moved ever so slightly as he read the words on the page.

She needed to stop him before he got too far, but she was couldn't move. _STOPSTOPSTOP! _Her mind screamed. She could only watch as Amon's brows knit as he read over a certain passage.

His reading stopped, and now his eyes were widened as if in some shock. _NO NO NO! He _KNOWS!

The tardy bell rang. The sudden noise made them both jump. Looking up, Amon noticed the girl at his door.

The stillness finally broken, Robin came forward, silently holding out a hand for her book. Though her face was calm, her hand shook.

Amon turned over the notebook somewhat reluctantly. He hadn't had time to read the second poem, and he wanted to.

"Why did you lie?" he asked.

"...I couldn't help it." For some reason, he got the impression she wasn't only talking about the assignment. He wasn't able to ask, however; she snatched the notebook away from him and ran from the room.

00000

Robin slid low in her seat. She was in the back of the room (per usual) and it was after school. She had gotten a detention for that tardy (not that being fifteen minutes late was a big deal for a class she already had an A in) but nevertheless...

She flipped open her notebook to the most recent page. It was the one she had left in Literature class; the one she had grabbed away from Mr. Amon.

_Why did I have to be so stupid? Why couldn't I have just played it cool and acted like there was nothing wrong? I could have told him it was just a creative burst and that it had nothing to do with my real feelings. Why do I always think about these things _after_ it's already too late?_

She sank down so her chin rested on her crossed arms, her notebook open in front of her. It wasn't the poem about her depression she was worried about. Teen angst was normal. A teacher wouldn't be concerned about that.

They might be concerned about a poem in which their name appeared, however.

Robin scratched her head. She really needed to re-write that one. It was a crummy piece of work--just scribbled at the end of the page, after one of her better pieces. What she had here was really more like an outline for a poem.

She flipped to a blank page and pulled a pen out of her messenger bag.

The Arithmetic of Literature

In the dictionary

the word "enigma" is defined

Webster says it's "mystery"

I looked it up

In a thesaurus

and this is what I found:

a riddle;

a puzzle;

a question.

I think it must be true;

I've met the man

That word defines

So little do I know

I have a clue

But only one or two

I must know more

My heart implores

_NO!_ Robin ripped out the page, crumpling it into a ball. _That was _terrible

The other students and the teacher stared at her sudden burst of noise.

"Miss Sena?" The teacher looked down at her over her half-moon spectacles.

"Um...I'm fine. I'll...just throw this out..."

Taking her seat again, Robin was once more faced with the problem--the enigma --of how to get her feelings onto paper. She had to write them out. She needed some kind of outlet, and since there wasn't anyone she could talk to, writing was the only way.

_That's right. Just _write.

So she did.

_Am I a person?_

_Or am I a Witch?_

…_No. I am Robin._

_Witches are the new mankind. People are the oldman._

_People hate witches and Witches hate people._

_Can't we just love each other?_

_Am I " Joan of Arc"?_

_No. I am not. I love Amon._

_I believe we can understand each other._

_I can fight, because I believe._

_00000_

She was in Literature class two days later, Friday, watching Amon's profile as he wrote on the board, lecturing the class on the expectations for their poetry books. Thankfully, he hadn't asked for any more read-alouds, which was a relief because it meant not only not having to listen to awful poetry from her classmates, but it also meant she didn't have to share the things she had written. There were only two days left until her ten poems were due. So far, she had completed twelve. And all of them were love poems. Most of them were weak, mindless drivel that made little sense. All of them were about Amon. And a good portion mentioned him by name. Robin was beginning to get a little edgy about it. She only had the weekend to write all ten, and she needed to go shopping. The pantry of the apartment was almost empty. But the empty cupboard was the least of her worries.

Sighing, Robin tried not to focus on her problems, which were rapidly multiplying. She looked up again, admiring the curve of Amon's shoulders and back, and way his collarless black shirt fit. The way hints of his musculature were visible when he moved certain ways. And his nice hands. And the firmness of his jaw. And the way his profile was so perfect. And...

_Enough._

_One more try…_ she thought, trying to come up with at least one poem. One that didn't involve Amon.

Nothing there for me

I woke up this morning

I thought there might be hope

In a new day

I left by apartment

My home, a cozy place

Clutched in my hand,

I list of things to get.

Two arms that will comfort me

Two gentle hands that will wipe away my tears

One soft voice that promises to make it all okay

One person to keep me safe

One person to love me forever

But strong arms willing to hold me tight

Are hard to come by

Every place I looked

Was out of gentle, loving hands

I couldn't find a voice so soft and sweet,

And there was no one there to keep me safe.

I wandered home through the pouring rain

Put my key into the lock

I opened the door

Stepped through the threshold

Gazed out my broken windows

Stepped over my charred wood floor

I collapsed onto the ground

No warm bed for me

I hug myself

Try to find comfort

As my tears fall

I knew it was a hopeless search

I knew I'd never find

The thing I wanted most

I always knew

From the very start

That there's nothing there for me.

_...Depressing. But I suppose it will have to do,_ she thought as the bell rang.

Because it was Friday, there was a sporting event that evening after school. The school colors covered the halls, and energy was running high. To all the students except for Robin, the day flew by. But for her, it couldn't have taken much longer. When the last bell finally rang, she joined the other students as they flooded into the halls and then out onto the rainy city streets.

_What is it with this town?_ Robin wondered. _Does it always rain?_

Opening her umbrella, Robin set off in the direction of the grocery store. Mentally, she counted up how much money she could spend on groceries. She cringed when the total came up to only twenty dollars.

_I need to get a job,_ she thought. _Bills will start coming any day now, and the rent. My savings is almost gone._

It didn't take long for her to get her twenty dollars of groceries. As she stood in the checkout line, she looked sadly at her pitiful pile_. If I don't eat breakfast, and have only a small lunch, this might last me until Monday,_ she thought. She sighed inwardly. _It's a good thing I don't eat much, anyways._

00000

A/N: Some of you might remember that during the scene with the poetry, Robin wrote a journal entry in which she's contemplating Amon. This was replaced with a little poem-like snippet., the whole Joan-of-arc bit.

Go to the WHR Wiki. There's a trivia section at the bottom of the entry, where you will find that quote. It actually comes from Zaizen's computer screen in ep. 22, around the 6m. 52s mark. I checked it myself. A bit blurry, but it's there. It made me insanely happy, and I had to put it in this fic.


	3. Monday

A/N: Again, I don't own WHR or these characters, I'm just playing with them for a bit.

Revision #2.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Three: Weakness of the Weekend

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

Though it was still fairly early when Robin left the grocery store, it was already dark. Night fell early in winter, and the heavy rain clouds overhead had made the sky skip sunset and go straight to dark.

Across the street, the clock on the bank chimed the half hour. Five thirty.

_Everyone will be in the game now,_ she thought. For a moment, she felt a pang of longing. She wished she could be one of those girls like Doujima--however cruel she was. One of the girls in the tight jeans and short skirts and cropped tee shirts that flirted with boys and had families to go home to. One of those girls that had places where they belonged. Family. Friends. Sports teams. Clubs. Work.

_I'm always going to be the misfit,_ Robin thought sadly as she turned in the direction of the empty apartment. _I'm always going to be the quiet one in the back of the room with no friends, no place to call home. I'm always--_

A lump began to form in her throat. Robin shook her head as she attempted to shake off the self pity. _Don't think,_ she commanded herself. _Just don't think. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep moving._

Robin rounded a corner, sidestepping a large puddle. The weeks of endless rain had left standing water everywhere--two to six inch puddles on the sides of all the roads; the uneven sidewalks collected water and made themselves prime traps for pedestrians who weren't paying attention, blessing them with soaked shoes and socks that were only a few degrees above freezing.

Robin was still five blocks from the apartment when it happened. A silver car rounded the bend ahead of her and came flying down the street. It pulled over on Robin's side of the street, dousing her with freezing, muddy water.

Shocked, Robin froze mid step, as though the water had instantly solidified, turning her to an ice statue. In truth, that wasn't too far off the mark; the water seeped through her clothes, drenching her to the very skin.

"I'm so sorry!" said the driver, as he got out of his car. He was clad in a ridiculous looking fur coat, but he had a kind face.

"I-it's okay..." Robin stuttered through chattering teeth.

"Please, this is my building; won't you come up and let me dry your things for you?" he said, gesturing at the tall brick apartment building.

_If this was any other circumstance, I would say no, but..._

She nodded, too cold to speak. There was no way she'd be able to walk five blocks soaking wet in this cold. _Besides, even if he is some kind of pervert, I can take him._ She glanced at his profile as he led her to the elevator. There was something familiar there...

_Anyway_, she thought _I don't think he's the type to hurt me...he seems sincere._

The man led her to an apartment on the fourth floor, and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. "I'll be right back," the man said. "I'll get something for you to wear."

"Thank you Mr...Um..."

"Nagira. Call me Nagira."

"Thank you Mr. Nagira."

He grinned. "It's no problem." With that, he disappeared into a room off of the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with a black shirt draped over his shoulder. "I couldn't find any pants that would fit you..." he said apologetically. "But this shirt is my brothers. It should be long enough to--er--cover you. The laundry room is over there," he said, pointing. "You can go ahead and change in there."

"Thank you," Robin said, accepting the shirt. It was a soft cotton material, and was warm and soft against her half frozen fingers.

Robin changed into the shirt, which reached almost to her knees, and turned on the dryer. She fiddled with the short collar some. _I guess this style is more popular than I thought, _she mused. _I'd never seen it on anyone besides Mr. Amon before..._

Pushing open the laundry room door, she sniffed. Nagira and put on tea, and just the scent made her feel a little warmer.

While the water heated up, Nagira was at the coffee table, typing something out on his laptop, files and papers spread out before him.

The kettle whistled, and Robin poured the tea for herself and her host before he had the opportunity to object.

"You didn't have to do that," he said, accepting the mug.

"It's alright. I appreciate what you're doing for me."

Robin took a seat on the sofa, and waited for her clothing to dry. Because of the length and thickness of her skirts, it took quite some time. While she waited, Nagira told her a little of his work.

"I'm a bit of an underdog attorney," he explained when he caught her looking at some of the papers on the coffee table. "I take the cases most other lawyers won't touch." He grinned. He had a boyish smile that was infectious.

After about forty-five minutes, there was the sound of a key in the lock.

"That must be my brother," Nagira said. "I guess he stayed over to grade papers."

"Is your brother a teacher?" Robin asked.

"Yep." Nagira grinned again. "He teaches Literature at the high school a few blocks from here. That's actually his shirt you're wearing."

Robin felt all of the color drain from her face. "Honors...Literature...?"

"Yes, do you know--"

Nagira was cut off as the door opened and Amon entered the room. He had his back to them as he pulled his key from the lock.

"Ah, Amon! You're late! But that's okay. I had a pretty girl to keep me company!" Nagira said cheerfully, flashing a smile at his solemn older brother. "This is—" But as he turned to introduce the guest, he realized that she was gone.

"Robin?"

"Talking to your voices again?" Amon asked, dropping his briefcase onto the couch in the spot Robin had occupied only moments before.

"Ah..." _Where did she go?_

00000

_I have to get out of here!_ Robin thought desperately, flinging open the drier. Her

skirt tumbled out, landing on the floor. Scooping it up, she yanked it on, even though it was still slightly damp.

_I can't let him see me! How on earth would I explain the fact that I'm in his apartment, wearing his clothes?_ she wondered, pulling off said shirt and tugging on her blouse as fast as she could. _Not to mention what people would say if they saw me leave his apartment! And he could get fired for that, even if nothing happened--Even if technically, he wasn't here to do anything?_

Robin pulled on her coat, opening the laundry room door as quietly as she could. She didn't see Amon anywhere. Nagira had his back to her, working on his laptop.

_I'll just sneak out since they're not paying attention..._ She tiptoed out of the

laundry room, watching Nagira closely to make sure he didn't turn around--

--and smacked into a firm chest covered in black cotton.

"Eeep!" Robin looked up. "Mr. Amon!" Her face went from snow white to tomato red in two seconds flat.

"Robin...What are you--?"

"I was just leaving!" With that, she made a mad dash for the door, and ran as fast as she could out into the street and to the relative safety of the empty house.

00000

"Would you mind explaining to me why one of my students was just in our apartment?" Amon asked, turning to his brother.

"She's your student?" Nagira asked, looking up from his computer. "Well, I guess that explains how she knows you. She seemed pretty terrified when I told her we were related. What do you do to your students anyway? Particularly the pretty girls like Robin?"

"I don't do anything. You're the one they have to worry about."

Nagira grinned. "Hey, they're the ones that chase me. I can't help it if I'm the one

that ended up with all the looks," he said. He inspected his half full mug of tea. It had

gotten cold. He rose to take it to the sink. "But that Robin girl is very pretty. Maybe

sometime--"

"Keep your hands off of her."

Nagira jumped at his brother's tone. His voice was quiet, a near whisper, but it was laced with a threat--a lethal one.

"What, you want her for yourself?"

"I said, keep your hands off her."

"Yeah, I heard you. But you know I'm not the type to just follow orders blindly."

"She's too young for you." _And she's not your type, anyway. She's much to good for you._ He narrowed his eyes, glaring at Nagira, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Nagira watched Amon leave in silence, then gave a little smile. "I guess that means she's too young for you, too," he murmured to himself. He shook his head. "You're a fool, Amon."

00000

"Amon, I need to see you in my office."

"Yes, Principle Zaizen."

It was Monday morning, and even if the sun was shining and the temperature had risen to a shaky ten degrees above normal, Amon still felt chills running down his back as he followed Zaizen into his office. _This can't be good._

"Do you remember that assignment I gave you a few weeks ago concerning our new student?" He asked after lighting a cigar. Amon started at it before answering. _Is he forgetting the rule about no smoking?_ he wondered_. but then, Zaizen always has been a rule unto himself._

"Yes, I remember," Amon replied, his voice neutral, even though he felt his stomach knot. _I was supposed to spy on Robin. I never did. I'm...not sure I can._

"It seems to me that you must have forgotten. You failed to keep me informed as to her situation." After only a few puffs on the forbidden cigar, the principal snuffed it out with his crystal ashtray.

"There hasn't been anything to report," Amon replied. _Just think of something. _

_Anything. Just something to keep him happy._

"Nothing, hm?"

"No sir. She hasn't been into any trouble."

"I see."

_Here it comes..._ Amon knew that tone of voice. Zaizen was about to drop a bomb. And it wouldn't be good, for either Amon or Robin.

"I've been told that Miss Sena has been spending a lot of time in your classroom. How can it be that you spend so much time together and yet you have nothing to report to me?"

Amon could feel beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck. "She reads."

"I should hope so. Other wise she wouldn't have made it into your class."

_He's testing me_, Amon thought_. He's baiting me, trying to get me to crack. I _

_won't!_ "When she's in my room at lunch, all she does is read. Poetry mostly."

"I see." Zaizen leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arm rests. "Tell

her she can no longer stay in your room at lunch."

"Sir?" _What is he getting at?_

"Tell her the truth. Tell her the amount of time she spends alone in your room is

inappropriate and she should hold company her own age. After all, we can't investigate these suspicious fights if she isn't around her antagonists." Zaizen smiled, and it sent a fresh of dread washing over Amon. He had the sudden mental image of an extremely poisonous snake preparing to strike.

"...Yes sir."

"Good. The bell will ring in a few minutes. You can't be late to your own class now, can you?"

"Hn." Amon spun on his heel, vacating the room as quickly as he could.

00000

While she had outwardly taken the news that her sanctuary was now prohibited quite calmly, Robin was crestfallen that she was being evicted from Amon's classroom.

_Now what am I supposed to do?_ she wondered as she looked around the crowded cafeteria. She reached into her bag for her book--another loan from Mr. Amon--but it wasn't there.

_I must of left it in my locker,_ she thought. Gathering her things, she went out into

the halls. _Lets see..._ She fingered the lock. _3...18...26..._

-Click-

Her locker swung open, and she rummaged through it for a moment before locating the book.

"You know, you're not supposed to be in the halls during lunch," said a deep, mocking voice behind her. Robin started to turn, but three sets of hands grabbed her hands and waist, and another covered her mouth so that she could scream. A voice spoke in her ear, rancid breath blowing across her face. "You need to be punished when you break the rules."

Robins eyes grew wide, and she tried to scream, tried to attract anyone that might help her, but the meaty hand over her mouth prevented that from happening. She was lifted roughly out of her kneeling position, right off her feet. She kicked and squirmed as hard as she could, but the three boys holding her were much bigger and stronger; members of the football team if the glimpses of red leather letterman sleeves were any clue.

She could feel the power growing inside her. _It's the only way out!_ she thought

desperately. _The only way I can--_

The hem of a letterman jacket began to smolder--

_NO! I can't hurt them!_

Finally overpowered, the four boys shoved her into her locker, slamming it shut behind her. "Have fun in there, Robbie," said the leader. She heard something scrape across the door as they jammed the latch, preventing her escape. The only way out now would be if someone found her...or if she burned her way out.

_I've never caused that much damage before,_ she thought_. They'll catch me for sure. But what other option do I have?_

Her breath was coming in frenzied gasps, and her thoughts were swirling in panicked circles. _I need to calm down,_ she commanded herself. She forced her muscles to relax. She was truly stuck; her back was to the door, her legs tangled in textbooks, skirts, and notebooks. Her elbows were pretty much pinned to her sides. One of her buns had snagged on the coat hook; the other had snagged and come free as she was being forced inside, and now hung limp over her left shoulder, bobby pins and ribbon sticking out of the tangled mess.

_To put it plainly, I'm screwed,_ she thought. She wiggled a little, and managed to

free one arm; she used it to untangle her bun from the hook.

Sweat ran down her back. The locker was heating up fast, and it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe.

_I have to get out of here,_ she thought, over and over. After a few moments, she

managed to turn around until she was mostly facing the door, but her skirt was shut in it, which prevented her from facing it completely.

_Air...I need air..._ she thought. The bell for seventh period rang, and students began to fill the halls. Robin wanted to call out to them, but she couldn't. The heat was making her tired. All she could manage was a breathless whisper.

Her whole body ached. Her legs and back were sore from the cramped conditions, and her right arm, still pinned to the wall of the locker, was falling asleep. Her head was throbbing from lack of air, having her hair pulled out by the hooks every time she moved and banging it against the shelf above her.

Robin leaned her head against the door. She couldn't even get to the vent to get fresh air; the one at her feet was stifled by her skirts, and the one above was blocked by the shelf.

Helplessly, Robin fumbled for the latch. It was pitch black in the locker; the only

light coming from a few cracks along the door. _If I can just get what ever is blocking the handle out..._ But thinking even a few sentences was beginning to get difficult. Her head felt cottony, and she was drenched in sweat. Her fingers wouldn't obey her.

She thought about calling the fire. _Can't...control it now...Too hot...anyway..._

Feebly, she banged her knuckles against the door. But the halls were already empty, and no one knew she was there, let alone that she was slipping quickly into unconsciousness.

00000

Amon couldn't help but sigh with relief as his last class poured from the room as the last bell rang. It had been a long, stressful day. He still felt bad about telling

Robin she couldn't eat lunch in his room anymore. He had found his lunch period surprisingly..._empty_ without her quiet presence at the back of the room. He hadn't realized how many times he had looked up at her while working until she hadn't been there to look at, and he found himself staring into empty space, looking for her.

He shook his head as he gathered up his things. _ I can't think like this. I have to _

_forget about it. Maybe Zaizen was right; it is inappropriate her to spend so much time in here with me. Heaven only knows how long it will be before I crack..._

Amon tried to push the thoughts from his head as he went out into the hall. _Stop it. You're never going to get over this if you keep thinking about it._

He was so focused on his thoughts that he almost tripped over a large black object in the middle of the hallway.

_What...?_ One of the students had left their messenger bag in the middle of the hall...and looking up, he saw several books and notebooks scattered across the floor as well.

Sighing, Amon knelt to collect them. _I'll just turn these in to the office on my way to the car..._ He flipped open one of the text books to check the name inside.

_What?!_

Robin Sena. The name was written neatly in its proper place, followed by her homeroom (his) and the year of use.

_It's not like Robin to..._ He pulled the other text books nearer, checking inside those as well. They were all marked with her name, in her handwriting.

Now completely puzzled, Amon collected the papers and books (including one of his own poetry books, which he found with the cover torn almost completely off about ten feet away) and put them in the messenger bag, which he now recognized as also belonging to his student.

At first he didn't see the last notebook, but when it did, he noticed immediately how unusually it was placed. It was hanging out of a locker, held in place by two or three pages that had been caught under the door with a length of black cloth. Upon closer inspection, however, he knew instantly what it was.

Robin's poetry notebook.

There wasn't any other student's handwriting he could pick out easier; her handwriting was so light as to be nearly illegible, and very neat. And here or there, she would throw in Italian without even realizing it.

This page, however, was written in all Italian, and as far as Amon knew, she was the only student in school that was fluent in any language other than Spanish or English.

He tried to tug the notebook free, but it was stuck tight. The only way it would come free would be if he tore the pages, or if he opened the locker.

_Technically_ speaking, he had no right to open a student locker without a reason that didn't involve suspicion of drugs or weapons. Even then, it was usually left to the police. But he only needed to open it a quarter inch to get the notebook loose. It wasn't like he was going to search it or anything. And there was only a ballpoint pen holding it closed; the owner of the locker was _asking_ for someone to open it and steal something. And _technically_ he wasn't stealing. He was...removing to return.

The entire moral debate lasted less than ten seconds. Amon stood, and wiggled the bent (?) pen from the latch. He pulled it open, and realized immediately that things weren't going to go as planned. There was a large weight leaning against the door...

The weight tumbled out before Amon could stop it; he caught it just before it hit the floor.

He only just caught _her_ before she hit the floor.

"Robin!"

She was covered in sweat, her face pale and flushed, her skin clammy. Her clothing was rumpled, her hair tangled and limp.

"Robin, wake up," he said in a whisper as he gently slapped her cheeks.

He should take her to Zaizen, or to a hospital. But Zaizen...he would only make things worse. And Amon never had trusted hospitals.

Leaving her things behind, he scooped the unconscious girl into his arms, making for the parking lot as fast as he could. He was suddenly aware of all the cameras the school had.

_And yet no one noticed while she was getting jammed in that locker? How long ago was that? Why didn't anyone see? Why didn't anyone help her?_

He crushed her more tightly to his chest, finally breaking free of the school and into the gravel teachers' lot. He laid her gently in the back seat of his car before peeling out of the lot.

His apartment was a lot closer than the hospital, anyway.

00000

Robin woke slowly, keeping her eyes closed. She was cooler now; the air not so stifled. She was still stiff and sore, but she was laying someplace comfortable. She was wrapped in something warm and soft; it caressed her cheek as she turned her head.

There was something cool on her forehead; someone was stroking her hair.

_Father?_ she wondered. _Juliano?_

But no. Juliano was still back in Italy, very far away.

_So where am I then?_

There was a familiar fragrance in the air. She couldn't place it, but she knew she had smelled it before. Detergent...leather...and something else. A cologne of some sort...?

_What happened?_ she wondered. The last thing she remembered was trying to get out of the locker...It had been so hot...not being able to breathe.

Slowly, Robin opened her eyes. It took a few minutes for things to focus. She was in a bedroom...there was a balcony...Lots of dark wood...

A person. The person stroking her hair. A person all in black...with black hair...

"Mr. Amon!"

Robin's first instinct was to jump out of bed and run to the opposite side of the room, but she was too weak. She had barely gotten into a sitting position when her teacher pushed her back down.

"You need to rest," he said in his low, steady voice. "Then you need to tell me what happened. Who did that to you?"

Robin shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't see their faces."

"Do you have any idea at all?" He asked. There was a hint of urgency in his voice, and even though his face was a mask of calm, she thought she saw a glint of something in his dark eyes.

"I...I think there were four. All guys. And they had letterman jackets. That's all."

Amon's face creased, but whether it was anger, worry, or something else, she couldn't tell. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He seemed deep in thought.

"You're not going to school tomorrow," he said. "I'll take you home in a little while, once you've been able to rest a little more. I'll talk to your gaurdians then, and explain things."

Robin turned away. How could she explain to him...?

"They aren't home," she said after a pause. "They...They're on vacation. They won't be back until next week."

Amon raised his eyebrows. He knew a lie when he heard one.

_Why? Why does she keep lying to me?_ he wondered. A pang of hurt blossomed in his chest, but he smothered it quickly. _Doesn't she understand that I'm trying to help? Why doesn't she want her parents to know?_

"I'll walk home. You don't have to trouble yourself anymore. I don't live far from

here."

_What is the matter with her?_ Amon wondered. _Why won't she look me in the face and tell me what is the matter?_

"I really can't let you do that. I have to at least take you home," he said. Then,

"And you'll have to give me your parents phone number; Even if they _are_ out of town--" _Which I know isn't true_ "--they'll still have to be told about this immediately."

Amon watched as the girl in his bed tensed. _Caught her now. She'll have to admit the truth--_

"Fine," she whispered. "But I don't have the number. It's at home. I'll bring it to

you tomorrow at school."

"I just told you that you shouldn't go to school tomorrow."

"...I have a test in Algebra. It's not my best subject; I should be there."

"I'll talk to your teacher."

"No. I can--" She started to rise.

"_No._" Amon placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, pushing her back down on the bed. Leaning over her, he said, "You were assaulted at school. I can't let that happen again. You could have been seriously injured. Even killed if you'd been in there too long. I'm going to protect you."

Robin swallowed hard, tears forming in her eyes. The intensity in his gaze was making it even more difficult to breathe than when she had been trapped inside the locker_. I wish I could tell him! I wish I could tell him everything!_ She thought fervently. _But then he would hate me. He wouldn't want to protect me. He would want to run from me; destroy me._

"Alright," she finally said, giving in. She relaxed beneath him. _This might be the only time I have someone to look out for me. I might as well take advantage of it for as long as it lasts. Besides, this is _Amon_...He...He wouldn't hurt me. _ Somehow, Robin was sure of this.

"Good."

Amon continued to stare into her eyes for several moments. So green and beautiful. He wanted to kiss her. He was already leaning over her; it wouldn't be so hard...All he had to do was lower his face a foot or so...

With out his permission, Amon felt himself leaning closer. Six inches, that was all it would take...he had never wanted to kiss anyone this much, not even his last girlfriend...Four inches...Her eyes were wide, she knew what he was going to do...He had never been this close to a student before--

The thought snapped him back to reality. He pulled away as though he had been burned, taking a step back from the bed. "Good. Good," he said, trying to find the strand of thought he had been on before being so thoroughly distracted. "Just make sure that you get rest while you're off tomorrow. And--" He was starting to ramble, which he didn't do often. _Darn Nagira. I've been living with him too long. I'm starting to pick up his habits._

The front door opened. _Speak of the Devil._

"That's Nagira," He said, needlessly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Amon rose and went hurriedly to the kitchen. He needed to get away from her. She was making his heart pound...His thoughts weren't coming out correctly. She made him think of other things...Things that shouldn't cross his mind, especially concerning her.


	4. Protection

A/N: Edited for your re-reading pleasure. There have been a few semi-signifigant changes made this time around.

I don't own WHR. Don't sue. I'm broke.

HEART'S DESIRE

Chapter Four: Protection

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

"Do we have company?" Nagira asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively as Amon shut the door to his room.

"Yes. And no, it's not the kind you think," Amon replied.

"Hm. Too bad. You really need to get laid, my friend."

Amon kept his expression neutral, though a vein twitched in his forehead. "For your information, I've been laid plenty of times."

"Yeah, but you and that Touko girl didn't exactly make passionate love, ya know? I've got the room right next to you, and I couldn't hear a thing! It really destroyed my hopes of Friday night entertainment."

Amon opened his mouth to object, then snapped it closed again. _I can't believe I'm having this conversation,_ he thought, rubbing a temple.

"It's not that kind of company," Amon repeated. "I--"

"If it's not that kind of company, why is she in your bedroom?" Nagira gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Unless you switched to guys without telling me. Now that's a _completely_ different kind of company!"

"Would you get your mind out of the gutter for five minutes?" Amon snapped, using all of his willpower to keep his tone even and not decapitate his half brother right then and there. "She's a student--"

"Ooo--this just keeps getting better and better!" Nagira said, staring at Amon with rapt attention. "So did she come willingly? I bet the whole legality thing really adds spice to your tryst, huh?"

Amon shot him a death glare, but chose to ignore the interruption. "As I said, she's a student. She was attacked at school by some other students. I brought her here to keep her safe." Nagira started to open his mouth, but Amon cut him off. "She will not be staying the night. I didn't touch her, nor do I have any intention of doing so. And she's in _my_ room because obviously you wouldn't have the presence of mind to keep your hands off a fifteen year old!"

"Fifteen?" Nagira's interest was piqued, though now for an entirely different reason. "Is it that girl that was here yesterday? Robin?"

Amon hesitated, then nodded. "Some students shut her in a locker. She was there for probably two hours--if not more--before I found her."

"So why did you bring her here instead of taking her to the hospital? And you talked with your boss, right? I mean, he'll have to do something about that, won't he?"

Amon didn't answer. He knew that the only thing Zaizen would do would be arrange another attack on Robin. Amon's gut was telling him that that was what had happened this time; The football team and half the staff were in Zaizen's back pocket--And if he really thought about it--though he preferred not to--Amon could count himself among that number.

The silence stretched, and Nagira seemed to understand that all was not well on campus. Amon didn't let him comment, however.

"Leave her alone while she's here," he said. He went into the kitchen, and his brother followed. "I'm going to let her rest a little and then take her home." His brow furrowed as he remembered the way Robin had tried to avoid his questions.

"Fine," Nagira said. His voice was a little calmer now, and didn't hold the teasing

tone of five minutes ago.

_Good. He understands that this is serious then,_ Amon thought.

00000

A few minutes later, Amon returned to his room with a glass of water for his patient, who had fallen into a peaceful sleep on his bed.

He closed the door quietly behind himself, and set the water on the night table. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying not to wake her.

_I won't let this happen again_, he vowed. _Never_. He reached out, gently stroking Robin's hair, just as he had before. As he gazed down on her angelic face, Amon had to wonder just why she was the object of such ridicule and persecution. She was a good student and a nice girl--very friendly, in fact, once one got past the initial shyness. True, she was raised in a monastery, but religious affiliation didn't seem like a good enough reason. After all, there were some downright _strange_ kids in that school, and Zaizen had never bothered to attack them, however indirectly. And it wasn't like she stood out in the quad publicly condemning people. She kept to herself at all times. In fact, Amon could only name one occasion when he had seen her speak to another student, and she hadn't been the one to initiate the conversation.

Amon forced his mind to slow down. _There's no_ evidence_ that Zaizen ordered the attack,_ he reminded himself. _Only your own personal feelings, which have never been that charitable towards him to begin with._

His hand paused it's stroking, instead opting to trail down Robin's cheek, resting at her chin.

She seemed so frail, yet she kept proving just how strong she was. But surely she had a breaking point.

Amon would be sure Zaizen, or anyone else, never found it.

Nothing was going hurt her, ever again.

00000

"This is the place?" Amon asked later that evening. He shifted the car into park and looked at the neat little home. It wasn't over large, but not small, either, and spoke of respectable, working class people. So what secret could this building possibly hide that Robin wanted so desperately to stay hidden?

"Yes." Her answer was simple and quiet, just as always. Amon longed for a time when he might get her to say more than was necessary, to open up, but he knew that was impossible, especially when he himself hardly spoke beyond what he had to.

Robin unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle; Amon did likewise. "I'll walk you up," he said.

Robin's eyes widened slightly in fear. The change was small; almost unperceivable, but Amon noticed.

"No!" She sucked in a breath; that had come out more vehemently than she intended.

"Why?" Amon asked simply. "You told me yourself that there was no one home to take care of you. I just want to make sure that you get in safely."

"That's alright." Back to only a few, quiet words.

Amon swallowed a growl of frustration. "Why don't you want me to go with you?"

Thinking quickly, Robin replied with the first words that came to mind. "It's

inappropriate."

This time, Amon's eyes were the ones to widen. His jaw clenched, and he stifled a reply.

"Fine," he said, turning back to the road. He waited silently as Robin exited the car, but only pulled away once she had made it safely inside the gate.

That night as he lay in bed, trying to sleep, Amon couldn't help but think of the way his pillow smelled like Robin.

00000

The next morning, Amon wasn't particularly surprised when Robin walked into the classroom as though nothing had happened. As usual, she didn't meet the eyes of any of her classmates, merely found her seat quickly, and bent over her notebook.

On the outside, Amon was just as calm as usual; completely solemn through announcements, he moved smoothly into attendance and the lesson plan, hardly looking twice at his students and never straying from the subject at hand.

Inside, however, he was squirming horribly. He wanted to do something. His mind was a million miles away from the list of names in front of him (except for one, of course), and he couldn't care less about 19th century novelists. He wasn't concentrating on what he was saying at all; he'd given this same lesson every year for the past three years, and he was covering the same subject (albeit slower) in his normal English classes.

Instead, he was catching glimpses of Robin out of the corner of his eye every chance he got. He scanned the other students, looking for who could possibly have shut her in the locker. However, there weren't many Varsity players in Honors Literature; Most of them were lucky if they made it into eleventh grade English, period. Half of them misspelled their names on a regular basis.

Which was exactly why they were favorites of Zaizen. After all, and uneducated populace is an obedient one.

00000

Michael propped his chin in his hand and tapped aimlessly on his laptop. It was lunch time, and he was in the cafeteria with Yurika and Haruto. He was trying to finish a history report, but the babble of his friends was making it hard to concentrate. Doujima's laugh did nothing to stimulate thought.

"...I mean, I guess somebody found her _eventually_," Michael heard her say. "Otherwise she wouldn't be here. But isn't it a laugh?"

"Isn't what a laugh?" Michael asked. He had zoned out through the first half of the conversation.

"That Sena girl," Yurika replied, rolling her eyes. "Didn't you hear? The football team was talking about it this morning before class. Apparently someone paid them to shut her up in a locker."

"_What?_" Michael asked, all thoughts of history banished from his mind.

"Yeah. Great isn't it?"

Michael turned, spotting the girl in question sitting alone across the room, nose buried in a book. She didn't look any worse for wear, though she seemed to be hiding behind the paper-back. He noticed belatedly that she wasn't eating.

Haruto and Yurika went back to dissecting Robin with cruel words that were sharper than any scalpel.

Michael stopped listening, and looked back at Robin. Briefly, he remembered when he transferred into the school district in seventh grade. He was your average computer geek; not much for sports, more interested in the internal workings of a hard drive than sneaking porn off the internet at school. That first year had been extremely rough, until he had shown Haruto how to override the security controls on the school computers and they had formed a bond over digital Playboy images.

Looking at Robin, he couldn't help but think how much harder it must be for her.

The grating of Yurika's voice on his nerves had reached its peak. With out a second glance, he grabbed his laptop and bag, leaving behind Sakaki and Doujima.

Robin jumped when she noticed him standing by her table.

"Is it okay if I sit here?"

00000

Amon knocked quietly on the door of the counselors office. Zaizen's office was right next door, the door wide open as he verbally tore an unruly student limb from limb.

Miho Karasuma opened the door after barely a moment, and Amon pushed is way in without waiting for an offer.

"Nice to see you too," Karasuma said tersely. "I hope this is important. Zaizen's given me a list of eight students for behavior referral. I need to get started on them immediately."

"Is Robin Sena's name on the list?"

"Well, no-"

"Good. I need to see her file."

"What? You know I'm not supposed to-"

"I know. But I need to see it."

Karasuma knit her brows, but there was something in his tone; she couldn't deny him. Not when he was this serious. She moved hesitantly to the filing cabinet.

"What is this all about?"

"I can't tell you yet. Besides," he said, snatching the file away from her quickly, "If Zaizen catches me, I'd rather it be only me that got fired."

"What are you talking about?"

Amon sifted through the papers in the manila folder, finally selecting the ones he

needed and handing it back to the counselor. "I'll return these too you soon," he said. With that, he slipped out of the office, leaving a very confused Karasuma clutching the disarranged folder.

00000

Amon entered his classroom, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to lock it, but unfortunately none of the classrooms could be locked from the inside.

He spread the papers on his desk. Robin's behavior records, grades, and medical history were now an open book for him. Also there was a letter from the last Literature teacher recommending her to the exchange program. There was also the contact information from her old school, and information about her parents.

No, parent.

Father Juliano. A priest in an Italian monastery.

Amon scanned that sheet quickly, but the only thing of interest was that the priest seemed to have ties to an organization called STN. The initials tickled at the back of Amon's brain, but he couldn't place them.

Her grades were superior...and completely boring. No notations about her interests or outstanding achievements, other than the fact that she had achieved a 105 in her last literature class, and was in the top 3 at her school.

The surprises came with the last few sheets. She was listed as a behavior problem; her behavior record was six pages long.

Amon read this carefully. Apparently, the trouble had started in her eighth grade year. She was twelve. She was referred to a counselor for severe social anxiety. Notes indicated that she refused to speak or take part in class activities. Counseling sessions had continued until she entered high school, but the high school counselor had deemed she was "just a quiet, sweet girl" and decided there was no need for continued counseling after only one session.

Later that year, she was listed as being involved in a major fight. It had involved

three other girls; there were no details on the cause, but Robin had received an in school

suspension; the others weren't punished. Brief notes were included on the girls statements. Robin said she had been attacked and defended herself accordingly. One accused Robin of brandishing a lighter, but the weapon had never been found.

Two similar incidents happened her sophomore year. One fight took place in a chemistry lab; the mild burns of one attacker were attributed to a Bunsen burner knocked over during the brawl.

Following the third fight, Robin was thoroughly searched, as were her attackers, but whatever had caused the clothing of one to become severely scorched was never found.

During the first half of her junior year, another incident had occurred which had nearly prevented Robin from being considered for the exchange program. One of the boys involved in the fight was severely burned, and spent four months in the hospital recovering.

Three days after the fight, she had been recommended for the exchange program.

The bell rang then, and Amon realized something. The exchange program wasn't a reward Robin.

It was an exile.

00000

Robin staggered into the apartment that afternoon, her legs weak with hunger. She had walked all over after school, looking for a job, but no one was hiring. She didn't even have enough money for a bus pass to widen her search.

She dragged herself into the kitchen and searched the cabinets and refrigerator. All that was left was half a bottle of grape juice, two packets of cool-aide, a partial bag of flour, and a bottle of vinegar. There wasn't anything left in her wallet, either.

Robin yanked the bottle of juice from the fridge, pouring herself a glass. It made her feel hungrier, but at least it stopped the shaking in her fingers.

She looked around the trashed apartment. The back door was shattered; She had covered it with a few plastic garbage bags and some duct tape. One of the sofas was still upturned on the floor; she hadn't been able to move it on her own. Several dishes and been in broken bits on the floor when she had first come in; she had swept it up, but she was still finding pieces of ceramic and glass every once in a while.

Robin had no idea what had happened in this apartment. Her host family hadn't picked her up from the air port, or answered the phone, so she had taken a taxi to the address. She had found the main room of the apartment completely destroyed. It had taken her three days to clean it.

She still hadn't heard from them. Thankfully, there had been enough food in the cabinets to last a few weeks, and she had found a small stash of money in one of the bedrooms which supplemented the spending money she had brought from Italy, but now it was all gone.

The familiar lump of fear rose up in her throat. She gulped down the rest of her juice, hoping to wash it away, then retreated to the room she had claimed for herself.

The room was pink, and obviously belonged to a girl of about her age, but it had been so clean that it seemed uninhabited. From what she had heard from Father Juliano, the couple had had a daughter who disappeared a few months before Robin came to stay with them. They had decided to proceed with the exchange program anyways, however.

Robin sat down on the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. This whole place felt haunted. Every minute she was in the apartment (without the company of a book) she was terrified. What if whoever had come for the family came back for her? For Robin was positive that they had been kidnapped. No one else may have realized they were gone, but judging by the way the living room had been when she first arrived, she knew there had been some kind of a fight. Perhaps it had been the same people that abducted the daughter.

The place gave her the creeps. For a while, she had considered calling the police, but didn't know what to tell them. When no one came around asking about the family, no superiors calling about missed days at work, Robin felt sure there was more to the situation than what she was seeing, but there was no other choice but to stay put and hope some answers surfaced.

Robin searched the room, looking for anything to distract her from her fear, and pulled a random book off a shelf. She opened it, and soon lost herself in the story.

00000

A few blocks away, a certain dark haired teacher had also lost himself in reading

material, though his reasons were much different.

He had looked through most of Robin's records at school, even though he had taken quite a chance by doing so. Nothing had been out of the ordinary, (except the obvious concerning her grades and behavior) but her medical records were something else entirely.

Every year, he was required to hand out medical forms to students, so that their parents could fill in any allergies or handicaps, and in the three years he had been teaching, they hadn't changed at all. The same three pages, one white, one pink, one yellow.

Robin's records were ten pages long.

Amon had immediately tossed aside the standard form. That would tell him nothing. The thing that caught his interest was a sheet of photos, scanned from a microscope. Pictures of Robin's DNA.

Most of the notation on the pages didn't mean much to him; he wasn't an expert in biology. One computer generated model did catch his eye though. It showed a close up of an X chromosome and a strand of DNA therein. Most of the compounds in the strand were labeled with A, G, C, or T, which was normal. However, there was definitely something _abnormal_ about a strand of DNA that was half labeled in W's and X's.

_What the hell does that mean?_ Amon thought, tapping his chin. _Her DNA is made up of different compounds? It mutated some how?_ Confused, he flipped to the next page.

What he found there made him even more confused. It appeared to be a family tree, though why a school would keep track of a student's lineage was beyond him.

That wasn't even the interesting part, however. Each name on the list was color coded. At the bottom of the sheet was a key, listing each color as "Seed" "Under Surveillance" "Not Gifted" "In Custody" "Dangerous" or "Deceased." All of the names except two were coded with two colors; All except those two contained the color signifying "Deceased."

One of the names was that of Father Juliano; Robin's maternal grandfather. He was listed as a "Seed;" whatever that was. The other name was Robin's. Her name was yellow; "Under Surveillance."

Amon knit his brows. There was something wrong with this whole thing. It wasn't right to have all of this information on file. And what did this color coding mean? And the DNA models?

Worst of all, he had a feeling that "Under Surveillance" _wasn't_ a good thing. And that _he_ was the surveillance.

00000

A/N: ;;; I'm so sorry guys. I didn't realize there were that many errors in here. I really am no good at editing my own work. Especially without spell check. n.n;;;;;

Oh, and for those of you that didn't read Newtype USA preceding WHR US release, a seed is someone with latent witch power. Sakaki, Amon, and Doujima are all seeds, but Karasuma and Robin are witches (obviously). Michael is the only person in STN-J with non witch blood, aside from Kosaka and Hatori, but they're not really STN. For this fic, however, the only character that's a witch is Robin, and there are no seeds. More witches may show up later, though.


	5. Fitting In

A/N: Chapter has been edited. Nothing too major in this one.

I don't own WHR or any of the characters. Just playing with them for a while, though Robin probably thinks I'm an evil sadist by now. ;

HEART'S DESIRE

Chapter Five: Fitting In

A Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fic

By Yuriko Tsukino

The next morning, Robin felt sure she would faint. Not only had she not eaten breakfast (and didn't have much hope for lunch, either) but someone _voluntarily_ sat next to her in homeroom and engaged her in polite conversation.

Robin wasn't sure if she should trust Michael; he was friends with Doujima, after all; but there was something about him that she couldn't help but like. There was an openess in his eyes that she had never seen before, even though he tried to hide it and act tough.

"See, this page can translate anything," Michael was saying as he scrolled down the screen on his computer. He pointed out some of the languages on a drop down menu.

Robin wasn't really listening however. She was lost in thought. She couldn't believe that someone was willing to spend time with her. In her three years of high school, that had never happened.

_He'll change his mind if he ever finds out_, she thought, but quickly pushed the thought away as Michael's hand accidentally brushed hers as he pointed to something on the screen. For the time being, she would just enjoy being able to spend time with another human being.

00000

Amon didn't realize his hands were clenched until his nails bit into his palm and blood beaded around his finger tips_. I am _not_ jealous,_ he told himself forcefully, and coerced his fists to unball. It was ridiculous to think that he was jealous of a student.

He was merely..._protective_ of Robin; that was all. Looking out for her best interests. That Lee boy; he hung out with Doujima, who was Robin's number one tormenter. So why was he suddenly so...chummy?

Amon's teeth ground together painfully when he saw the boy's hand brush against Robin's. And when he saw her smile at the contact. This wasn't right. Why was he suddenly so interested in her? Why was she showing interest in return? The only person who had rights to touch her was Amo--

No. He _didn't_ have that right. Obviously she didn't trust him. And with good reason. He had started out trying to help her the other day. He had nearly taken advantage of her.

Perhaps it was a _good_ thing that Zaizen had put him in charge her surveillance. He would take an outsiders perspective from now on. Get rid of this ludicrous feeling that welled up inside of him every time she entered his room.

There was only one problem with that logic. In order to do proper surveillance, he would have to get closer to her.

Or at least that's what he told himself.

00000

"You failed me last time."

"It _would_ have worked sir, except that--"

"Except for what? Your mistakes? Next time don't go so easy on her."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. I paid you well the last time, and you failed.

"I want that proof. Do whatever it takes. I don't care. None of you seem to have

scruples when it comes to the other students; treat her as if she was one of them."

"Yes sir." He smirked. "What about our payment this time?"

"Payment?" He paused thoughtfully, lighting a cigar. "You failed the last time when I paid you. And it was a handsome sum, to boot. This time, consider yourselves sufficiently reimbursed if I decide not to expel you or ruin your futures."

The young man before him gulped, and he extinguished the cigar. "Believe me, I can see to it that you are never hired for any job, accepted to any college, or play on any team ever again." He said this so pleasantly, he might have been discussing the weather.

As the final tendril of smoke rose from the ash tray, the young man realized he was dismissed, and turned to leave.

The man with the cigar leaned back in his chair, smiling slightly.

_I'll have you now, Robin Sena._

00000

"Hey, Robin," Michael called as he exited the school. Hitching his messenger bag up a little higher on his shoulder, he jogged down the concrete steps to catch up with his friend.

Friend.

He never thought he would associate Robin Sena with that word. After the weeks of teasing and tormenting her, he still wasn't sure just why he had snapped and decided it was time to give her a shot. But he was glad he had. She was a great girl. Smart, pretty, even a little funny, given the chance. She didn't know a lot about computers, and she wasn't into music; she hardly spoke, but somehow they managed to get along. With Doujima and Sakaki, he had always felt left out if he wasn't talking; they never had anything in common (except the whole middle school porn thing, but that didn't really involve Doujima). With Robin, however, he felt completely at ease, even if he said nothing at all. And if he was talking about computers, she would listen without changing the subject like they always did. And when she started talking about the merits of poetry and the novels she had read, she actually made them sound _interesting_ and could relate it to things he understood--like rock music and fan fiction. She found a way to make Marilyn Manson and Emily Dickinson sound so similar, he actually _wanted_ to pick up one of the books and read them for a change.

He finally caught up with her at the gates of the school. "Walk you home?" he asked, just as he had every day that week.

"No thank you," she replied, just as she had, every day that week. She started to turn in the direction of her house.

Michael knit his brows behind her back. This was the only part of the relationship that made him uncomfortable. Why did she always refuse to let him walk her home? It wasn't like he was going to force his way inside, throw her down on the bed and rape her. He was only being friendly.

A sudden chill ran down his spine, and he turned around. There on the steps of the school was Mr. Amon, staring at him with his face completely expressionless, as usual. But there was some flicker in the stone-like face that gave Michael the impression the he was on the receiving end of a well hidden death glare.

He'd been getting that feeling from Mr. Amon a lot lately, in fact.

Shivering, Michael turned back around, but Robin had already turned the corner. He had no idea where she had gone.

Carefully avoiding Mr. Amon's gaze, Michael turned and headed for home.

00000

"And this, gentlemen, is the laboratory where we conduct our research," Zaizen announced, gesturing to the other side of the window. Through it, one could see several men in lab coats, examining x-rays and complicated print outs, and peering through microscopes.

"Our current project has been moving along quite smoothly," Zaizen said. "We are just waiting on one final component before it will be complete."

"And what is this final component?" asked one of the gentlemen. "How long do you expect it to be before you attain it? I don't want to invest my money in something fruitless."

Zaizen smiled calmly. "We expect to have it securely within our grasp within the week," he replied.

One of the other gentlemen flipped through some papers on the clip board in front of him. "You have received several million in funding so far this year, Mr. Zaizen," he commented. "Yet you have brought us here, asking for more. Just how much do you expect us to give, and to what means?"

Zaizen's smile didn't falter, though his eyes lost a little of their kindness. "I do not

believe that you understand the true meaning of what STN _is_," he said. He turned, facing the laboratory. "STN is a worldwide organization, bent on the protection of its citizens, and the eradication of those who would pose a threat. Our research is for the good of all man kind.

"Do you see those green vials in the corner?" he asked. "Those tubes are filled with the purest orbo to date. Orbo, as you know, is the substance which allows us to do our work so efficiently. Waste not, want not, after all," he said, turning back to the donors. This time his smile was not in the least kind. It looked rather like a snake, laying in wait.

The financers did not seem to notice this, however. This may have been because they, too, were smiling in a similar manner.

Except one.

He was young. Only recently introduced to STN. He raised his voice inquisitively, sounding as naive as a child.

"If you are protecting all people, then why don't you ask the government for funding? They already have millions, even billions, set aside for that."

Zaizen's smile slipped from his face. "STN operates outside of the government. We do not need nor want their help; many of _them,_ in fact, are a part of the government."

"Do you mean to say that this organization is illegal? That it is intended on moving against the government?"

"What do you think?"

The young man began to open his mouth again, but suddenly there was the sound of an explosion; his eyes bulged and he slumped to the floor, blood gushing from a gunshot wound in his back.

The owner of the gun smirked. "Can't have him talking, now can we?"

The other investors and Zaizen smiled and nodded. Zaizen rang for someone to clean up the body, then lead his guests out front to the parking lot. They shook hands, and all agreed that it was the beginning of a wonderful partnership.

00000

_This isn't good_, Robin thought miserably as she put her head down on her desk. Her head was swimming and she felt sick. The night before she had tried to go out job hunting, but again, no one was hiring.

Last night had been her last meal, though it hadn't really deserved to be called one. Half a bowl of instant noodles. Not even the kind with vegtables or shrimp in it. Just plain, thirty-three cent noodles with gold chicken flavored powder on top. Though she had to admit that she deserved a prize or something for making that one package last for four days.

There was nothing left in the house. No food, no money, just her and some broken furniture.

"Robin, are you okay?" Michael asked, real concern showing on his face. Robin couldn't help but smile. He normally tried to look nonchalant, like what happened to anyone else didn't matter. But he dropped the facade for her.

"Robin?"

"I'm fine," she said, managing to pull herself upright, even though the room was spinning and everything seemed to come to her through a thick haze.

Robin's mind went in and out; one moment the morning announcements were crackling over the loud speaker; the next the bell for second period was ringing and Robin had no memory of the space between.

Pretending to pack up her things, she urged Michael to go on ahead of her, despite his concern.

When she was just about the last person left, she stood, though she could still feel the floor rolling beneath her. As she rose to her feet, a feeling of vertigo hit; the world seemed to jump off its axis, then it was suddenly rushing up to meet her.

00000

When Robin woke, she was hardly feeling much better, but the room wasn't spinning. Quite as much, anyway. This was due in part to the fact that she was lying down. Which was a blessing. She really wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep, especially since there was a warm hand on her forehead.

"Good, you're coming around," said a vaguely familiar, very deep voice. Robin tried to turn her head to see who the speaker was, but that was a mistake. The world began to rock like it had before.

She squeezed her eyes shut again, then opened them, squinting in the glare of fluorescent lights. A shadow fell over her face, blocking out the light. Her vision went into focus with the absence of the glare; Amon was leaning over her. It was his hand on her forehead. He seemed to realize this and pulled it away.

"You've only been out about a minute," he said, standing. "When was the last time you had anything to eat?" he asked, walking over to his desk.

"Umm...last night?" Robin said, her senses still coming back to her. She tried to sit up, and discovered she was still on the floor in the aisle between rows of desks.

"You can't do that to yourself," Amon said. He bent down, disappearing behind his desk. When he stood again, he was holding a sandwich and can of juice. He knelt next to her on the floor, handing them to her. "Eat this," he said.

00000

"Eat this," Amon said, handing the girl a portion of his lunch. As she reached for them, he noted how thin her wrists were. How boney her hands were. Then he looked at her face, and he was sure. Her eyes were sunken, her cheek bones too prominent. It had been a while since this girl had had a good meal. At least a few weeks.

But when she accepted the sandwich, there was a spark. She tore off the plastic wrap and tried to eat both quickly and politely at the same time. She wasn't anorexic; so what was the problem?

He looked more closely. Because she wore all black, it really wasn't noticeable until one got closer to her, but her clothes _were_ dirty. It looked as though someone may have tried to clean them, but they certainly weren't as crisp as when she had first arrived at school.

_Is her host family not taking care of her?_ he wondered. There was _definitely _something wrong.

Within a matter of moments, the sandwich was gone, and Robin opened the can of juice. She began to chug it; with a will of it's own, his hand reached out, loosely grasping her wrist. "Slow down," he commanded. "You'll make yourself sick."

For a moment, their eyes locked and neither of them moved. Then Amon looked away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pink pad and a pen. He scribbled across it.

"I'm late for study hall. When you're done, just give this to your second period teacher," he said, handing her the hall pass. He wanted desperately to tell her that if she

needed any more help that she should come to him, but he couldn't find the right words that would keep him from sounding like a letch.

He stood, stifling the urge to look back at her, and swept out of the room.

00000

"Hey, Earth to Robin!" Michael said, waving his hand in front of Robin's face. She had been completely spaced all day, though at least she wasn't as bad as she had been first period. She had looked really sick then; it worried him.

Robin snapped back to reality. "Hm? Did you say something?" she asked in her quiet, wispy voice.

"Yeah. Just wondering if you were okay. You've been really out of it today," he said. "Everything okay?"

For a moment, it looked like she was going to confide in him; actually speak her mind or tell him something personal. She opened her mouth, and Michael felt hope blossoming---but then she snapped it shut again, and his hope was crushed. He sighed. For all the time they spent talking, it felt like he knew nothing about the quiet Italian. He didn't even know the basics of her likes and dislikes.

Suddenly Robin pushed out her chair. "I'll be right back," she said.

Michael whipped around in his seat to see where she was going. He was completely puzzled when she jogged across the cafeteria to...Mr. Amon? She looked like she was either apologizing or thanking him for something.

Michael looked a little longer. There was something odd about the two of them together.

For an instant, Michael's over active, sugar-hyped, fanfiction overloaded brain ran

away with him. A forbidden romance between a student and a teacher...make out sessions in the janitors closet...on the desk in the---

Wait. _Robin_ and _Amon_?

No way.

_Maybe I need to cut back on my online reading... _Michael thought. There was no way they would hook up. With Robin and her confidence problems and Mr. Amon being... Mr. Amon, there was just no way.

Although...He _had_ come across something strange when he was hacking into the school's main frame to--er, _fix_ his somewhat lacking Literature grade.

Robin had a 115 in Mr. Amon's class.

There was no way even someone as passionate about books as Robin could get that grade.

Right?

"Is everything alright, Michael?" asked a wispy voice behind him as Robin took her seat. "You look a little odd."

"Erm! I'm fine!" Michael replied, looking away quickly as he tried to force down a blush.

00000

Between change found in the halls, on the sidewalk, and left in the vending machines, Robin had just enough change for another package of instant ramen by the time she had gotten home from school.

Stowing the coins safely in her pocket, Robin set about trying to clean the house at least a little more. At the monastery, things had always been very clean, and living in this mess was a little upsetting for her.

Besides, it would help get her mind off of her stomach.

Michael had offered her one of his bags of chips at lunch, which had served as her entire meal, but one bag of chips usually didn't last more than an hour or so in the hunger department.

By the time she had gotten a bucket filled with soapy water, however, she couldn't stand it anymore. Leaving the bucket in the sink, she reached for her coat again, leaving the apartment, and heading off in the direction of the supermarket, trying to ignore the food stalls lined up along the street, and trying instead to look for help wanted signs. It occurred to her that getting a job in a restaurant would be a good idea; she could get discounts on food, and tips were pretty good money from what she had heard. With that in mind, she walked into the first restaurant she passed without even thinking or looking for a help wanted sign.

The name on the frosted glass of the front window said "Harry's." After following a long dark hallway, Robin entered into the more brightly lit dinning room.

At first she panicked; there were only two people in the entire restaurant that she could see; the bartender and a single customer at the bar.

_It's only mid afternoon_, Robin told herself; _they're probably not busy this time of day. _

The silence of the room pressed down on her shoulders as she advanced on the bar. The only sounds were the swishing of her skirts and the steady squeaking as the bartender dried some glasses.

"Can I help you miss?" asked the bartender.

"Erm," Suddenly she felt silly. She should have looked to see if they were even hiring before coming in here. "I--I was wondering if I could get a job here."

"Do you have any experience?" the man asked.

"No sir, but I learn quickly, and I'm a good worker," she said. Her voice took on a

pleading tone. She _needed_ this job.

"She's telling the truth, Kobari," said the customer suddenly.

Robin jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn't been paying him any attention at all; hadn't even realized he had turned around to look at her.

"She's my best student," Amon continued. "And I'm very certain that she can handle both school and work and still do her best at both."

Mentally righting herself, Robin picked up his though and continued it. "Yes sir; I'll do my best."

The bar owner looked thoughtful for moment, then smiled gently. "I suppose I could use some help around here. Would you like to start tonight?"

"Yes sir!" Robin's reply was a bit more eager than she intended, but Kobari merely chuckled.

"If you come back around five o'clock, you can start then. We're too slow right now and there won't be anything for you to do."

"That's fine sir," Robin replied. Hope rose in her chest. _Finally_, something was working out for her.

Robin left Harry's feeling lighter than she had in days. She hurried off to the store, picking up her instant noodles so that she would have something to eat before going to work.

And she tried very hard not to think about the thrill it gave her that Amon had vouched for her.


	6. Computer work

A/N: You can't see me, but I am glaring daggers at right now for removing all of my formatting and special characters. At least it's leaving in my italics right now, or at least it was last time I checked. If not, let me know. I'll scream and rant, and then I'll fix it. AGAIN. x glare x.

No major changes to this one, except for Robin's poem.

Don't sue me. I own nothing and am too broke to pay, anyway.

HEART'S DESIRE

Chapter Six: Computer Work

A Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fic

By Yuriko Tsukino

_Job is a good thing_, Robin reminded herself for the thousandth time. _Jobs mean that I don't go hungry. It means that I have money for food, rent, electricity, and water,_ she thought firmly. But as she stood there, inspecting herself in the mirror, it didn't _feel_ like a good thing.

While she knew she should be grateful for the allowances that Mr. Kobari had given her, she still felt uncomfortable in the uniform--tight jeans she had practically been _poured_ into, strappy heels, and a halter top that barely covered anything. At least compared to her normal, long black dress.

Which she was missing dearly at the moment.

"Are you done in there yet?" came a perturbed voice from the other side of the door.

Robin groaned inwardly. The other drawback to this job was that she had to work with _Doujima_ of all people. Under the strictest of secrecy, of course. Doujima, being the rich little Daddy's girl that she was, did not want anyone to know that she held a minimum wage job.

"I'm only here because Daddy made me, alright?" she had said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "He got this idea that having a job would make me more responsible with my money."

Robin forced herself to look away from the mirror, and instead tried to concentrate on not cringing as she opened the dressing room door. Doujima stood there in her uniform--the "full" uniform, and not the adapted one Robin wore. It covered so little Robin felt ashamed just looking at her. The same halter top, only shorter. A skirt so short she hoped Doujima didn't have to bend down. And strappy sandles like Robin's, only with a much higher heel. _How does she walk in those?_ Robin wondered as Doujima led her over to the bar.

"So this is how it works," Doujima began. "The customers seat themselves, so that's one thing you don't have to worry about." She handed Robin a pen and a small pad of paper. "You take their orders, turn them in to Kobari. He takes care of drinks and food. He puts out the orders with the slip they go with, and you take them out. When they're done, you figure up a bill--price list is over there, by the way--and then you take their money, clean up the table, blah blah blah. Got it?"

"I think so."

"Good. There's your first customer."

Startled, Robin turned. Sitting alone at a table by the window was Nagira, wearing his horrid fur coat again and reading the paper.

Somewhat relieved that it was at least someone she was familiar with (and not someone from school) Robin went over to the table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked.

Nagira looked up. "Robin! I didn't know you were working here."

"I just started," Robin replied.

"Ah." Nagira glanced at the menu before him. "How about you bring me a special? With a beer."

"Yes sir," Robin answered, scrawling down the order as she went back to the bar.

Doujima was just leaving the kitchen. Suddenly, she whirled around, practically diving into the back room.

_What was that about?_ Robin wondered, pushing open the swinging doors. Just as she stepped into the kitchen, a hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her away from the entry.

"Doujima! What was that for?"

"Look, you're going to have to take over for a while," she said.

"Why?" Robin demanded.

"Because." Doujima grabbed her arm and drug her to the circular window that gave a view of the dinning room. "See those kids that just sat down in the corner?" Robin nodded. They were vaguely familiar. "Those guys go to our school. Therefore, they are not to know I work here. So you are taking over for me."

Robin bit back a retort. _I suppose I should think of the extra tips I'll be getting,_

she thought. "What will you be doing if I'm taking over for you?"

Doujima gave her a coy grin as she swaggered off to the cloak room in the back. "Well, they'll probably take a while, so it's best if I get out here. Maybe do a little shopping," she said with a wink. "Later Robin." And with that, Doujima slipped out the back door.

"Don't mind her," the manager said. Robin jumped. She hadn't seen him behind the giant stainless-steel appliances and shelves that covered the meager floor space of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, sir," Robin said. "I--"

"Don't worry about it," he replied good naturedly. "Doujima does things like that all the time." He smiled. "Now you know why I didn't turn down the extra help."

00000

By the end of the night, Robin could certainly see why. She had never been so exhausted in her life. Her feet ached, her back was tired, and she was all around worn out from all of the trips between the kitchen and the dinning room.

_But it was worth it,_ she thought that night as she sat on the edge of her bed, counting out her tips. The wad of bills was never more welcome looking.

She tucked a portion into her purse for food, and the rest she put aside in a jar on a

shelf.

_Hopefully this will last for a while,_ she thought as she turned out the light.

She lay down, and fell asleep almost instantly.

00000

BEEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!

"Shut up..."

BEEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!

Robin groaned, rolling over in bed. Something sharp poked into her stomach.

"Ouch," she mumbled numbly into her pillow.

Unfortunately, the alarm clock didn't heed her mental wishes, and Robin was forced to shut it off by hand.

As she sat up, she figured out what the sharp thing in her bed was. She vaguely remembered waking in the middle of the night, a poem flowing though her head. Completely dazed, she had retrieved her notebook from the kitchen and scrawled it down in a stupor.

As she pulled on her black dress, she looked over the stanzas, reviewing what her brain had come up with while in the dark catacombs of sleep.

To her surprise, the poem didn't sound half bad. It would need to be rewritten for legibility sake, but otherwise it was good.

Glancing at the clock, she shoved her notebook in her bag and took off for the door. As she opened the gate to the street, her heart nearly stopped.

"Morning!" Michael called from the end of the block.

He had seen which building she had come from. She knew it. He was going to ask--

"Hey, you better hurry up or you'll be late," he said, coming nearer.

"Oh...yes," Robin replied, and jogged to catch up with him, half hoping that if she distanced herself from the place then he wouldn't associate her with it.

00000

Michael decided to pretend he hadn't seen her leave the building. That they had just randomly met on the street. That he hadn't been so overwhelmed with curiosity that he had hacked into the school files and found her address.

_Why is she so secretive?_ he wondered as he led the way to the school. The neighborhood was perfectly respectable--maybe even a little nicer than his own. Yet she didn't talk about her home life, and wouldn't let him even know where she lived. Was she ashamed of her family? Did they embarrass her? But that didn't seem like Robin. She wasn't that shallow.

So what was it?

He contemplated this the entire walk, until they entered Mr. Amon's class for first period.

"Hey, Robin," he said as they took their seats, "Do you want to go to the movies tonight? There's a new one out based on one of those British novels you like to read. It sounds pretty good."

"I wish I could, but I have to work," Robin replied as she sorted out the notebooks and pens she would need for the class.

"When did you get a job?" Michael asked, had frozen inches from the power button of his laptop. How could she not have told him? _ But then_, part of his brain chided, _When does she tell me anything?_

"Last night."

"Oh." Michael's hand realized it was floating in space, and completed its course to the little round button. "Maybe this weekend then?"

Robin shook her head. "I really the money; I'm going to be working every day."

Michael opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Something wasn't adding up. How could she be hurting for money in that neighborhood?

_Stop jumping to conclusions_, the rational part of his brain ordered. He tried to

focus on opening his word processing program so he could take notes. _Maybe she's just saving for something. And she's with a host family, right? Maybe she's just trying to take some of the burden off of them._

But as his gaze slid involuntarily over to the girl next to him, he couldn't help but

notice the state of her clothing, or the way her normally slim face was now so _thin_.

And he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important Robin wasn't telling him.

00000

_This is ridiculous_, Amon thought as he poured over Robin's records for the thousandth time. True to his word, he had returned the originals, and was using copies he had made during his lunch break to try to glean more information about Robin.

One part of his mind argued that if he did get caught, he could just say that he was doing the research Zaizen had ordered him to do.

But the other part (the one that was annoyingly always right) said that Zaizen would chew him out for reading information that they already had and not getting out there to discover more.

_Besides, I don't think he'd believe me anyway,_ Amon thought. _I don't know how, but he always knows when someone is lying to him._

Frustrated, Amon filed the papers and put them back in the locked drawer of his desk. At least they would be safe in there.

He didn't have much choice. There weren't any disjointed pieces in her records for him to put together. He would have to follow her. Get an idea of her personal life and find out just what it was that made her so different. Hopefully it wouldn't take to long. But, judging by the way she seemed reluctant to talk to even her closest friend (if an ex-tormenter could even be called such), it was going to take a lot longer than Zaizen would want.

_That must be why he paid off the football players,_ Amon realized. _He tried to force her to repeat whatever it is she's been doing._

It occurred to him that reviewing the security tape the locker incident might be useful. The question was, how to get to it. There were too many people in the office (like Zaizen) that could see him if he stole the disk the surveillance was kept on. Not to mention the fact that the cameras ran twenty-four hours a day; he would throw off the archiving and therefore give away the fact he had been there.

However, he also knew that Zaizen could view surveillance tapes whenever he wanted on his computer; he had done it numerous times in discipline cases. So that meant that either his computer was hooked up directly, or the cameras were on the school network somewhere.

_I'm going to have to hope it's the later,_ he thought. _There's no way I'd be able to get into Zaizen's office._

_Time to call in a favor._

00000

"Michael. I need to talk to you," Amon said.

"Er--What for?" Michael asked. He had the distinct--and slightly disturbing--feeling that Mr. Amon had been waiting for him there outside the school gates.

"You have a wireless card for you laptop, correct?"

"Yes sir." Sweat began to bead on his forehead. The look Mr. Amon was giving him was giving him the creeps.

"I need to use it. And your hacking skills."

"Hacking...skills?" Michael swallowed hard.

Amon grinned, if the twist of his mouth could be called such. "Yes. Your hacking skills. I'm assuming that is how your grade went from a fifty-two percent to an eighty-two percent overnight."

Michael tried very hard not to swallow his tongue. _I knew I shouldn't have gone that high!_

"Let me put it this way," Mr. Amon said. "You help me with this, and I consider it the extra credit assignment that gave you those extra thirty points." Amon raised a suggestive eyebrow, then turned and walked away, leaving his student gaping like a fish.

00000

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ Michael thought, tapping away furiously on his

computer. _And I can't believe a teacher is blackmailing me into it!_

"I found it," he said as the screen popped up. Through it, he could access any of the cameras in the school and all of their archives.

"Good," Amon said, leaning over his shoulder. "Find the one for the second floor language hallway."

Michael did as he was told, and another window appeared, displaying what was happening in the hall at that instant. Amon instructed him to copy and download all of the surveillance for the Monday before onto a disk, which he then transferred to his own computer.

"Thank you Michael," he said, focusing on the monitor before him. "That is all I

needed."

"So...I'm not in trouble anymore, right?" Michael asked, packing up his cables and lap-top.

"No."

Michael sighed in relief, shouldering his bag as he prepared to leave.

"But I may need your help again. And if I ever catch you tampering with grades again, you will be suspended. _If_ you're lucky."

"Yes sir..."

00000

"Hey Robin! Aren't you eating in the cafeteria?" Michael asked, stowing his bag on one of the orange plastic chairs.

"No. I'm going to the library," Robin replied. "I want to type some stuff out."

"You know, you could just--"

But she was all ready gone.

"--use my laptop."

Plunking down in his chair, Michael stared in defeat at the glob of brown goo posing as meatloaf on his tray as though it could tell him why Robin seemed to avoid him while at the same time she spent more time with him than any other person in the school.

00000

Robin picked a computer in the back corner of the library and signed her name on the login sheet. She pulled up a word processing program, popping a floppy dick into the slot. She got out her poetry notebook and began to type. She kept one poem per page, her words showing up in neat, roman type on the screen. She entered them chronologically, checking each one meticulously for spelling errors. Near the end of the lunch period, she got started on her latest poem, the one that had woken her up in the middle of the night.

It's like I'll disappear as soon as I close my eyes

I feel like I've turned into someone that even I don't recognize

Sadly, I've become so small I want to be rescued,

But instead of sighing I vomited up my loneliness,

And just lay there, measuring it all up

Amidst this drop of time gone dry

My heart is drowning and writhing

These lies that make me dizzy I took them and tore them up

And with that, I became lost In a world of thin darkness.

For the sake of those whom I should trust

I chose to come here, a cage into which I've locked myself,

And now there's no escape.

Deep inside my parched throat

Lies the reason for this growing impermanence

Scared of the approaching tomorrow I cower and collapse

But it seeks me out and whispers to me

This voice of thin darkness.

Amidst this drop of time gone dry

My heart is drowning and writhing

These lies that make me dizzy

I took them and tore them up

And with that, I became lost In a world of thin darkness.

As she finished the last line, Robin pressed one of her cold hands to her forehead and tried to stop her face from turning even redder. For some reason this poem made her think of Amon. She couldn't figure out why. But it did. And it made her blush for some reason. Which was why she wanted this computer. In the back. Away from everyone, with her back to the world where no one could see her face or what she was typing.

Robin saved the file to the disk, typing a random word into the "file name" block. As the bell rang, she hurried down the hall to her French class, shoving the disk into her pocket roughly.

00000

Amon rewound the sequence again, zooming in on the sleeve of one of Robin's attackers. After an hour of reviewing the material, he still couldn't figure out how the fires were starting---Or how they were suddenly stopping.

_They're not really fires,_ he reasoned, trying to find some kind of explanation. _Just smoldering. Could the wind generated by movement be putting them out?_

He shook his head, rejecting his own suggestion. That didn't fit. They were

extinguished rapidly--almost as soon as they started. It was something else.

He zoomed back out, rubbing his eyes, ready to give up for the night. All of this

staring at screens was giving him a headache.

_Once more,_ he thought, resetting the timer. This time he focused on Robins terrified face. _What are you hiding from me?_ he wondered, watching as her fear widened eyes flamed.

Wait.

That wasn't the proverbial spark of passion. It wasn't the light catching. There was a literal flame in Robins eyes.

He backed up the sequence, zooming in closer. There was no mistake. He went back to 100 view, watching as Robin's eyes flamed a millisecond before the sleeve of her attackers coat began to smoke.

Amon fell back in his chair_. So Zaizen _was_ right,_ he thought. _She was behind it._

But as he watched her being shoved into the locker, he knew with certainty that all of the attacks were provoked. She had never set out to hurt anyone.

The boys on the screen slammed shut the locker, jamming a Bic pen into the slot normally reserved for a combination lock. Not very bright of them, but Amon suspected that they thought they were supposed to scare her, not endanger her life.

The class phone behind his desk rang, displaying the number for Zaizen's office.

Amon's stomach knotted painfully. He had a feeling Robin's danger wasn't even close to being over.

00000

A/N: For those of you that don't know, the poem that appeared in this chapter is the opening theme song to WHR, Shell, by BANA. And if you have seen that opening, then you know why Robin would be blushing. And if you haven't, that song rocks and you must see the opening at some point.

And it obviously doesn't belong to me.


	7. In the drying time

A/N: Chapter has been edited.

And for the millionth time, I don't own anything.

HEART'S DESIRE

Chapter Seven: In the Drying Time

A Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fic

By Yuriko Tsukino

"I wonder what's going on there?" Robin thought aloud as she passed the yellow police tape.

She was in the middle of her Sunday ritual--mass and prayer at the church six blocks from the apartment, followed by a walk through the local park. Today, however, the peace was interrupted by police dogs and the harsh voices of investigators.

"Terrible mess," an old woman said as she passed, also looking at the crime scene.

"Excuse me, but do you know what happened here?" Robin asked.

"Oh, my," the woman replied. "Haven't you seen the papers? There was a terrible murder last night! Body all slashed to bits! One of several, I hear. No suspects, no weapons, no prints! Quite frightening. I would hurry home if I were you; the only reason _I'm_ here is because it's eight blocks out of the way if I go around, and my knees just can't take it."

Robin nodded her agreement, but chose to say nothing. The two parted ways, and she continued toward her apartment. She passed a clearing, pausing to look at a familiar site.

There was a girl, around her own age. In fact, she was fairly certain the girl went to her school; a senior, perhaps; one she didn't see very often outside of the park. She was painting the landscape before her, and crows had gathered around her, as though as entranced by her graceful brush strokes as Robin was.

Taking a chance, Robin gathered her courage and approached her.

"That's a lovely painting," she said, after a pause.

The girl seemed started to find Robin peering over her shoulder. "Oh, thank you," she replied.

"Do you come here often?" Robin asked.

"Sometimes. It just depends on what mood I'm in," the girl said with a smile. "I like how peaceful it is." She shot a glare in the direction of the police officers. "Most of the time."

Robin smiled in understanding, and they chatted for a few more minutes before Robin went on her way. _Now why can't everyone at school be that nice?_ she wondered.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind, than it was broken by a wildly barking dog. Robin turned; one of the police dogs seemed to have gotten loose, and was on a collision course with the girl and her easel. An officer was chasing it, but he was several hundred yards behind the furry bullet, and could do nothing as the dog jumped into the air, muddy paws landing smack on the girl's back and pushing her head first into her painting.

Robin covered her mouth in shock as girl and artwork tumbled to the ground, the gigantic dog standing on her back howling while scattered crows screeched from the tree tops.

Suddenly the girl rolled over, screaming just as loudly as the birds. Her face was livid and her eyes seemed to have an unearthly evil about them as she yelled at the beast that had ruined her work.

Then, before Robin knew what was happening, streaks of blood appeared on the now whimpering dog, and it's black fur was ripped from its body.

She was vaguely aware of shouting, screaming, and gunshots as the police officers that tried to restrain the girl were given the same treatment as the dog, but her eyes didn't leave the poor hound as it lay dead on the muddy grass.

In her mind, the blood was lit on fire, and she felt the flames rising inside of her as she watched the mental image of the burning animal. She saw the evil of that girl's eyes mirrored in her own.

Suddenly unable to stand it-- stand the blood, the shouting, herself--she turned and ran, not caring where her footsteps took her, so long as it was away from what was in front of her. If she could have run right out of her skin, she would have; at that moment nothing felt more disgusting than her own flesh, nothing sounded more vile than her own fear-laced and disjointed thoughts.

She ran as hard as she could, for as long as she could. She would have continued to run, long after that, had nature not conspired against her.

One instant, she was running; the next, flying through the air, and a split second later, the ground was rushing up to meet her.

_That wasn't there a second ago_, she thought dazedly, staring back at the tree root that had interrupted her course. _I swear it wasn't. It jumped up just now,_ her sluggish and still shell-shocked brain thought.

She heard footsteps. Nearby. The footsteps of someone trying extremely hard to be quiet.

_I'm being followed,_ she thought, her mind suddenly running on hyper speed as she struggled to untangle her legs from her skirt and pull herself to her feet. She started to run again, but stumbled, nearly falling as her ankle gave out. It didn't seem to be hurt too badly, but she would have to walk off whatever she had done too it. And there was no time to hobble around getting her bearings when there was someone following her, getting closer all the time and--

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and Robin let out a yell, swinging one arm back as hard as she could. Her attacker caught her wrist, pinning it to her side. With his other hand, he clamped her mouth shut, cutting off her scream.

Panic set in as she struggled and fought, but he only pulled her closer; it felt like he was crushing her ribs. The fire started to rage inside of her, and she started to let it loose a little; anything to get free.

Then, through her wild thoughts and the blood rushing in her ears, she heard a voice. Deep, irritated, familiar, and welcoming.

"Robin, stop it! Robin!" Robin's body was slower at catching up to her brain, and she kicked wildly once, using all her strength as she twisted in her arms, her knee connecting with something.

Suddenly he let go, dropping to one knee with a groan of pain and clutching himself.

And Robin nearly screamed again as she stared at the pale, handsome man with the black hair and long trench coat.

"Oh! I--I am sooo sorry!" she cried, her face turning bright red with embarrassment.

Amon looked up at her, his face still twisted in a half glare, half grimace. "At least we know...that you can take care of yourself in a pinch," he said, managing to stand. In an effort to regain some dignity, he brushed himself off, buying a little time.

There was a burned patch on the sleeve of his coat.

Amon's hand froze over the spot for a split second. He wasn't sure if he should be angry (the coat was rather expensive), hurt (_She tried to burn_ me), satisfied (he had figured out what was going on, after all, and this only confirmed it), or worried (Zaizen was going to kill them both. Slowly).

The moment passed for him however, and he managed to keep his face blank, except for a hint of shock at seeing his wonderful coat scorched.

For Robin, though, it didn't. She caught the brief look in his eyes when he put it all together, and was currently avoiding his glance, shaking like a leaf, and visibly torn between begging for forgiveness and making a run for it.

The silence stretched and grew unbearable, but Amon wasn't sure how to break it. If he said something coarse, she would run, and he would lose his trust and his fragile link to her personal life. Yet he couldn't ignore it. And to say something positive would be completely against his personality. And there was nothing positive about the situation.

Finally, Robin did the job for him.

"I'm sorry."

Amon pulled on his impassive mask, and decided that anger was the best choice. "Could you be a little more careful? Putting out fires is annoying."

Robin flinched and apologized again. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, then tried again.

"Please, I—I'm sorry. I'll pay for it, just please, don't tell anyone!"

She looked up at him desperately with tear filled eyes, and Amons face softened. He couldn't refuse her. Not this. If he reported her, who knew what would happen to her? He had never seen the other students he had turned in after reporting them. They could be dead for all he knew.

"I won't," he said quietly. "I promised to protect you, remember?"

He watched in awe as Robin graced him with a smile. It was both conservative and yet the most expressive he had seen her. Then she did something that surprised them both. Closing the distance between them, she threw her arms around his waist, embracing him as she whispered a "Thank you," against his chest.

She pulled away at the sound of the police moving into the area. He shooed her off in one direction, and he took the other.

000000

Without thinking about it, Amon rubbed his chest where Robin's cheek had rested. His skin felt unusually cold without her there, and yet his heart felt warm for the first time in years. He wasn't sure if she remembered the promise he had made, but he hadn't meant it for just that day, for that one situation.

He meant it forever.

He allowed his feet to follow the familiar street back home. Nagira would probably still be at work, which was good. He was going to need some time alone to come up with a plan of action for Zaizen.

00000

Robin leaned against the door of the house, hugging herself and smiling. The fact that Amon was actually _keeping_ his promise amazed her. No one had ever done that for her before.

And of course, her smile had nothing to do with having been so close to the man in question. It had nothing to do with the way she had relished resting her cheek against his chest, hearing his heartbeat, smelling the unique scent of Amon.

The only way it could have been more wonderful would be if he had hugged her back. She felt giddy just _imagining_ the feel of his hands on her back. Or maybe if he had kissed—

Robin shook her head as though to clear it. She swallowed hard and tried to regulate the way her breathing had suddenly become shallow and erratic.

But she couldn't do anything about the racing of her heart.

00000

Amon knew he was in trouble the instant he walked into the school the next day. For some reason, the cement block building seemed to magnify every emotion and thought of its master, Zaizen.

He tried to stay calm as he hung up the class room phone and made his way to his superior's office. His stride was confident and even, but inside, he was shaking.

Zaizen sat calmly in his leather chair, reclined back slightly, cigar dangling from his lips. Normally, cigars seemed to calm him, but this morning he was glowering despite the nicotine.

Amon stood before him, automatically at attention, as though he had suddenly been drafted. He stared straight ahead as the principal extinguished his cigar and a smirk curved his lips upwards, though his eyes remained in a glare.

Fighting to keep his expression smooth and even, Amon thought, not for the first time, how ironic it was that his boss seemed to know exactly what was going on in the heads of those around him, while at the same time he was actively tracking, hunting, and presumably killing those with exactly that power.

The thought sent chills down Amons spine.

"Amon, for the last five years, you've been very loyal to me," Zaizen began, balancing his chin on his folded fingers as he leaned forward on the desk. "Never once have you failed me."

_Wait for it…_

"I believe it is time for me to reward that."

A sense of dread washed over Amon; he felt as though his stomach had been filled with ice and had suddenly dropped to his feet.

"Up to now, you have been merely a detective of sorts; gathering information for me. Now, I would like you to pursue the next step."

Amons heart leaped. He schooled his face to remain in its perfect mask while inwardly he could feel his heart racing away in his throat. _It's a set up!_ He thought.

"Amon, I am putting you in charge of the Sena case. You have final discretion over everything.

"I want you to bring me Robin Sena.

"Dead or alive."


	8. Loaded Guns

A/N: Editing has occurred. Made the explanation of Zaizen and the school make a little more sense.

I own nothing.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Eight: Loaded Guns

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

Amon spent the next week in tight anticipation. He had yet to come up with a better plan than the obvious: Get Robin out. He was so preoccupied that he hardly noticed other things—namely that Michael was hanging out with his old friends again; or rather, that they were hanging out with him and Robin.

It was at one such outing—the four of them had decided to meet at Harry's after school—that Yurika Doujima announced something that would terrify Robin to death, and was bound to change her forever.

"You know what you need, Robin?" she asked, stirring another sugar into her coffee. Without waiting for an answer, she continued: "A makeover. I know you've got a nice figure, but no one can see it under all those layers, and if you just do something different with your hair--"

"I think I'd rather--"

But if she was expecting backup from the boys, she was sadly mistaken. While Michael _tried_ to stand up for her, his opinions were barreled over when Haruto (imagining Robin in a skimpy bikini and giving him a come-hither look) slammed his palm on the table and said, "That's an excellent idea! You should definitely do it, Robin!"

"But I don't think—"

"It's settled then, Robin," Doujima said, clapping her hands and taking Haruto's vote of approval as unanimous support. Her eyes shone as she considered the possibilities. "We could get your hair and makeup done, and I know _just_ the place to get you a whole new wardrobe….!"

_What am I getting into?_ Robin wondered

00000

Despite all of her objections, however, she still met Doujima at the mall two days later. She had prepared an entire list of reasons she shouldn't—her religion, her lack of funds, the fact that she _never_ wore anything immodest or flashy (with the possible exception of her work uniform).

Doujima, however, ignored her pleas and drug her into one store after another, insisting that Robin was a "special project," and she would therefore cover all of the costs.

The first store they tried was a preppy, chic boutique that described everything that was Doujima and nothing that was Robin. After forcing her into a few brightly colored mini skirts and some halter tops, however, Doujima reached the obvious conclusion that bright colors and hip clothing did not mix well with the solemn young girl, who tried in vain to cover herself while modeling the clothes.

"What you need to do," Doujima explained as she led the way to the next store, "is forget that you're wearing anything at all."

Robin colored and she quickly amended that statement. "What I mean is forget you're out of your comfort zone. Just be yourself. Forget the clothes. The clothes aren't who you are; they merely get others attention so they find out who that person is."

Robin relaxed a bit until her guide pulled her into Hot Topic. While she supposed her style _was_ rather dark, it certainly did not involve corset tops, body piercing, or spikes. She pulled Doujima away before they had gone even two steps into the store.

"Listen," Doujima said at last, making Robin stop dead in her tracks. They had been walking in circles around the mall for nearly three hours without buying a single thing. "I'm the makeover artist here, right?" she said. Robin nodded hesitantly, silently added that she hadn't _asked_ for the makeover. "So you need to trust my judgement. I've got an idea. It won't be immodest, but it will include color and it will show off your figure." Without waiting for Robin's inevitable objections, she led her back to the stores they had already rejected, and began pulling clothing off the racks. After a moment, she turned back to Robin.

"You can sew, right?"

00000

Most of the guys in her first period class were staring at her.

In fact, so were many of the girls.

Haruto was grinning like an idiot.

Michaels mouth was hanging open.

And Amon was staring at her over his computer screen.

Self consciously, Robin smoothed down her skirt. It was a lot shorter than she was used to, but longer than it had been when they had bought it. It was short and fuzzy with a pattern that looked like snow leopard fur. The A-line hugged her hips, and Doujima had (after a bit of convincing from Robin) added six inches of black lace trim to the hem, bringing it to knee length.

Robin's top consisted of a blue-green halter top with a zipper that extended from her navel to halfway up her neck and was intended (according to Yurika) to bring out her eyes. For modesty sake, sheer black sleeves which hooked over her thumbs had been added, though Doujima refused to let Robin cover her three inches of exposed midriff. "You're one of the few girls I know with a naturally flat stomach," Doujima had said prying Robin's hands away from her abdomen, where she was trying to cover herself. "If you got it, flaunt it."

The rest of the ou fit included knee high black socks with green ribbon at the tops, matching the shirt, and a pair of Mary Jane shoes from Hot Topic, with what was quite possibly the highest heel on the planet earth. Yurika had also done her make up—ocean blue eyeliner (which thankfully hadn't come out as thick as she had first thought—it was barely noticeable) and heavy black mascara, with silver and green eye shadow. Thankfully, for the rest of her face, she had used just a bit of powder and a sheer pink lip gloss, saying a more natural look suited Robin best. Over all tough, she looked nothing like she had the day before; the make up added a good three years to her age, and while she didn't have the desirable curves most of the boys were looking for, her model-like figure still drew attention.

Robin quickly took her seat, eager to avoid the stares of her classmates. She felt naked in these clothes.

Sakaki was leaning over Michael's desk, telling her what a nice change it was. Michael shoved him back in his own seat, glaring down at his hands. He turned his gaze up to Robin briefly, and she didn't see any of the adoration she picked up from the other guys.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, blushing. He wasn't looking away.

"Nothing," he said, looking back at his hands. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and returned to working at his lap top.

"You don't like it," Robin stated, reading the look on his face.

"I like it. It looks good on you."

"But…"

"I like you better. That's not you." His cheeks colored, and he typed a little faster.

Robin smiled at this admission. She wasn't sure how seriously he meant it, but it felt good all the same.

She glanced up at Amon. He was once again absorbed in his work, though she knew he was looking at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.

That thought made her feel even better.

00000

Robin knocked softly on the door of Amon's classroom, causing him to look up from his computer.

"I just wanted to return this to you," Robin said, blushing. "I'm sorry about the cover, I…" she held out the poetry book. It was the personal one Amon had lent to her. She had actually found it in the hallway that morning, cover torn off, dirty foot prints covering some of the pages. "I promise I'll buy you another copy," she said, though it felt like a poor sort of way to make up for it. The book was obviously very important to him, and she had let it be destroyed.

"It's not a problem," Amon replied, sticking it back in the drawer of his desk. In truth, he actually didn't mind. Too much. After all, the book had been damaged when she was shoved in the locker. He couldn't complain about that.

Amon shut down his computer. "You're going home now?" he asked. The final bell had rung about ten minutes ago. At Robin's nod, he stood. "I'll walk you out," he said.

Robin followed him, and they walked in silence to the elevator, which was usually reserved for teachers and handicapped students. It was very nice to not have to walk down four flights of stairs.

Amon pushed the little round "1" and they waited as the antiquated elevator dropped slowly through the shaft.

"Robin…the other day…" Amon began, not quite sure how to word what he wanted to say. _Best to just spit it out_. "I know you're a witch."

Robin whipped around to stare at him, eyes wide. At that instant, the elevator shook, and suddenly began a rapid descent—much faster than it should have. The lights flickered off, and both occupants were thrown against the walls.

The elevator continued to drop, landing hard in the basement. Robin and Amon were both thrown to the floor.

Robin groaned. She had landed hard, but the metal floor was much softer than she expected. And warmer. And it smelled like leather. And deodorant. And some indescribable, wonderful, familiar smell that she couldn't quite place.

The floor moaned.

Robin took stock of her surroundings in the darkness. She was laying on something which was warm, soft, and smelled good, and was evidently not the floor. Her legs were spread wide in a failed attempt to stop her from falling, and were now tangled up in whatever she had landed in.

It groaned again, moving slightly.

One of the things she was tangled in moved upwards, putting her in a very akward position indeed.

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

Robin tried to get up, but her legs were hopelessly wrapped up in Amon's coat, and one of his thighs was currently between her own.

_This could be interesting_, she thought.

"Um…Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"I…yes…" Amon replied. He didn't seem quite aware of the situation. She considered that he might have hit his head.

Amon did not have time to properly recuperate, however, as the elevator door was suddenly blasted open.

Robin ducked her head to avoid the flying bits of metal. When she looked up again, several men in strange pearl-gray suits were staring down and pointing guns at them.

What happened next happened so fast Robin hardly had time to blink.

Amon was suddenly on his feet, her wrist clasped firmly in his hand, and as the three men opened fire, Amon did as well, plowing through them and out into the hall.

Panting, Robin ran after him. He ran through the twisting corridors of the basement, and didn't hesitate until he reached one of the security doors. Punching in the proper code, he pulled her inside the steel door, then up a flight of stairs. He didn't stop again until they reached the gravel teachers lot. He quickly unlocked the doors with the touch of a button, and they both dove inside his black car as the men came out of the building.

Amon peeled out of the parking lot, and Robin was thrown against the door of the car before she could get her seatbelt on. She quickly locked it in place, hanging on tight as they sped through the city.

Somewhere around the outer belt, Amon slowed down, and Robin relaxed just long enough to wonder why they had been attacked and why a literature teacher would carry a gun. She considered asking, but Amon was still tense over the wheel, and Robin got the distinct impression that questions would not be welcome at that point.

Amon gripped the wheel tightly, clenching his teeth as he drove. Zaizen had set the factory on Robin. He didn't just want her captured, he wanted her dead. He had skipped over Amon and summoned the factory, meaning that he didn't trust his employee anymore.

Amon considered places that they could go. Obviously, they were both on the run from here out, as Amon had protected Robin from those who wished her harm. And that meant that any place the two of them were associated with would be subject of search.

Amon picked an exit at random, following it to another highway. Hopefully his idiot brother wouldn't let anything slip, and would have the sense to get out as soon as he got wind of anything strange.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robin watching him. She was cautiously eyeing his side, where his holster was hidden. He shot her a glance, and she looked away quickly.

"You're a witch," Amon began. "You carry the active gene for pyrokenisis. This gene is the reason those men are after you."

A glance at her told him he had her full attention.

"A few years ago, I got my teaching liscense. It wasn't my first choice of career, but it made ends meet. For a while, however, I had trouble getting hired. I was always told that I lacked the interpersonal skills to make a good teacher. Low on money, I moved here to live with my half brother. I applied to that school, and was hired almost immediately, despite my lack of experience and 'interpersonal skills.' It wasn't until later that I found out why."

Robin watched him intently. This was the first time she had ever heard him mention his past. Other teachers might offhandedly mention family, children, past jobs, or their school careers, but Amon never did. It was always business, and here he was, confiding to Robin how hard it had been for him to become a teacher; in fact, that he hadn't wanted to be one at all.

Amon continued. "After about a year, Zaizen decided I was trust worthy. He called me to his office after the last bell one day, and told me what I'm about to tell you.

"According to Zaizen, there are two kinds of people: humans and seeds. A seed is a person who carries the gene for witchcraft, but doesn't have an active power. If this gene is ever aroused, however, the person is then a witch, like you.

"Only a few people know this, but Zaizen is not only the principal of that school, but he's also the head of the board of governors, and the founder." He waited a moment for Robin to be properly surprised by this news, though her expression of impassive calm mixed with unease hardly wavered. "The disturbing part is _why_ he stared the school."

"Zaizen values, above all else, purity. And not the kind that you studied at the monestary," Amon said. "Purity of the species. He thinks seeds and witches violate this.

"The school is a cover."

Robin's eyes widened. She stared at him in shock and horror, but Amon hadn't finished yet. "The theory was to find young witches, and get rid of them while they were still unaware of their powers, or before they gained complete control over them. By doing this, they would be easier to capture."

"Capture? By who?" Robin asked

Amon swallowed a lump of unease that was building in his throat, and chose another exit, this one leading to a side road. "The teachers."

"_What?_"

"The teachers. Zaizen does background checks on every teacher he hires. He only employs seeds, because they have the best resistance to witch powers. Every employee in that school is either a seed, or a craft user. They pass information on students to Zaizen, and according to their family tree and a database he set up, he determines if the student is a witch, seed, or human. If they come up as anything other than the latter, he orders them captured and sent to the Factory."

"What is 'the Factory?'"

"I don't know. It's just where the witches get sent. We don't see them again after that. They might get imprisoned, by my guess is that they are used for some kind of research, which is used to capture other witches. I don't have any proof…but some of them are probably killed there."

Robin looked down at her hands, trying to absorb all of this.

"So…every teacher in that school is a hunter. They're supposed to…to find people like me."

"Yes."

"So," Robin said, as Amon pulled over. "Is this the part where you kill me?"


	9. On the run

A/N: Chap's been edited, no real changes. WHR's not mine.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Nine: On the Run

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

"So," Robin said, as Amon pulled over. "Is this the part where you kill me?"

Amon pulled the key from the ignition, killing the engine, and turned to face her. Robin resisted the urge to keep an eye on his gun and instead looked him squarely in the eye, wearing the most calmly defiant expression she could muster.

"The only reason I would kill you would be if you were out of control," Amon replied in his calm, quiet voice. "If you don't believe me, then use your craft on me now and prevent it from happening. We both know I wouldn't be able to stop you."

For a moment, Robin didn't say a word. She continued to look into his dark eyes, waiting. She didn't really know what for, but she knew when she found it.

She looked away, facing out to the road before them again, and Amon did the same. He re-started the engine, and pulled off the curb.

"So where are we going?" Robin asked after a few moments of silence.

"…"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You don't know, do you?" When Amon refused to answer, she stifled a giggle. He shot her a glare without turning.

"What is it about men and directions?" Robin asked aloud, now unable to hide her laughter.

"I'm not lost."

"Then where are we going?"

"…Somewhere."

At this point, Robin's giggles turned into all out hysterics. She couldn't stop laughing. The tension was finally broken, and the thought of cool, calm, sensible Amon being just as prone to the same pride as every other man on the planet was just too funny for words, in Robin's opinion.

Despite his best efforts, Amon felt his lips start to quirk, but he refused to smile.

"So you would have me ask for directions? 'Excuse me sir, but do you know of a good place for two fugitives to hide out for an undetermined period of time?' I'm sure that would go over real well."

At this, his passenger only laughed harder, and Amon felt himself falling prey to her cheerfulness. At this rate, he might actually start laughing with her, something he hadn't done for years.

"Anyway, I don't think most hideouts come equipped with sprinklers and a good fire escape."

"I'm not that bad!" Robin retorted. Her mirth had finally faded, but while her voice was firm, her eyes were still sparkling.

Amon thought she looked delicious.

Instead of pouncing on her however (seeing as he was driving and all), he simply recovered his usual seriousness and replied, "So you're in complete control of your power then?"

"Of course I'm in control!"

"You had better be," he replied. "Your life may depend on it."

With that he jerked the wheel hard to the right as shots rang out behind them.

Robin held tight to the dashboard to keep from flying out of her seat. The huge van on their tail skidded to the side but maintained its balance and continued to follow them, gaining ground.

_How can something that big go that fast?_ Amon wondered, taking another sharp turn and crossing four lanes of traffic at once, trying to put some distance between them and their pursuers.

Robin turned in her seat, still hanging on for dear life as Amon wove in and out of traffic. She concentrated fiercely on the van, and felt the power welling up inside her for a brief moment.

For an instant, she was terrified of actually hurting the people inside the van, afraid that she might do damage, but she also knew that it was her only option. She drew the fire forth, and it exploded in front of the van.

The driver couldn't avoid the burning pavement; he swerved to the side and skidded perpendicular to the road for several yards before the top-heavy vehicle finally tipped onto its side and rolled off to the side of the road. The next flames that appeared weren't Robins.

Amon floored it and they were once again on the freeway. He backed off the gas, allowing them to blend in with the other commuters, but he still glanced furtively into the rearview mirror, searching for any more signs of pursuit.

Robin leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing regular even though she felt like she had been holding her breath for the entire chase.

This time when Amon seemed to be driving them in circles, she didn't say anything. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and prayed that when she woke up, the entire fiasco had never happened.

0000

"I'm sorry, but that's the only room that we have left," said the oily looking man behind the counter. "The Animation convention is in town this week, and it draws huge crowds. You're lucky I've even got this room open—last minute cancellation. You'll have to drive fifty miles to find another."

_Animation Convention?_ Amon wondered disgustedly as he favored the hotel manager with his coldest look. Beside him, Robin was doing her best to imitate him, but her lower lip was sticking out, making her look more cute than threatening. _All the hotels are booked because of _cartoons

Giving a mental headshake, Amon slapped down the cash needed to pay for the room, if such a thing even existed in this seedy place.

The manager snatched up the money, stuffing it into the register, then grabbed a key from the rack behind him and led them down the dingy hallway.

The yellowed paper in the hall was peeling, and there was a scent of mothballs, decay, and something Robin couldn't—and didn't want to—identify. Most of the rooms they past were quiet, although from one door on the left came the sound of something distinctly erotic, even to Robin's virgin ears.

"Here we are," said the oily man, sliding the key into the lock. "Number twenty-six."

He said this with so much pride that for a moment Robin though that the dented pressboard door might belie what was behind it, but she was quickly disappointed. The dank room was about the size of the bathroom of the house she had been staying in, and smelled worse. The olive green wallpaper was peeling and torn, revealing dents and yellowed drywall. There was no t.v., and a single lamp cast a dim, flickering light over half the room. The vanity sagged in the middle and was resting on oily carpeting that was so stained the true color was hard to decipher. The bed was covered in an ugly, moth eaten comforter that looked like it hadn't been washed since the 70's.

There was only one bed.

Only one blanket.

Only one pillow.

For a moment, this fact didn't register in Robin's mind. Then, slowly, _This could get interesting._

When she turned back to the two men, the manager had disappeared down the hall and Amon was surveying the room with an impassive expression on his face. Judging by the way he was fidgeting with the key, however, she got the impression that he was even more displeased and disgusted than she was.

He took two steps into the room (which was all that could be taken, really), closing the door, sliding the key into his pocket. His gaze swept the room again. He took off his coat, revealing his holster, and tossed it on the foot of the bed.

"We don't have much time," he said. He did face her, but Robin saw the way he rubbed his eyes in spite of himself. He had driven for almost ten hours, stopping only once, briefly, when the gas gauge leaned on 'empty'. Now when he turned around, Robin could see how red his eyes looked. "I had to use my credit card for the gas; they'll be back on our trail in no time. You need to get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

Robin shook her head. "I can sleep in the car. You lay down. You're the one who's done everything so far." He started to object, but she cut him off. "I'll keep watch. You need to rest or you won't be any good in the morning. I've got my craft, so I can buy us some time if something does happen."

At this point, exhaustion seemed to overcome Amon's logic, and he sank down on the bed. Robin stood before him so that they were almost knee to knee. "It'll be fine. Just get some sleep."

Even as she spoke she could see the weariness begin to wear on him. His eyes closed briefly, and he leaned back on the moldy comforter, not seeming to really care how disgusting it was.

"You won't leave the room?" he asked, eyes still closed.

She sat down beside him. "I won't move from this spot."

"You'll wake me if you see or hear anything suspicious?" He started to open his eyes so he could look at her, make sure they were clear on the rules, but he was just too tired.

"I promise."

"You…won't…"

But whatever it was she wasn't supposed to do, Robin never found out as Amon finally succumbed to sleep.

For a moment, she merely looked at him, taking in the way he even seemed tense in his sleep, though going by his breathing, he was already deep in dreamland.

His brows knit and his fist clenched. She reached down, taking his hand, smoothing her fingers over his knuckles, and he relaxed some. _What do you dream of that makes you so unhappy?_ She wondered, still holding and stroking his hand. She leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered.

And for a moment, she thought she saw him smile.


	10. Return

A/N: So. This is not the origional chapter ten. In fact, it's actually chapter eleven. While I was revising, I realized that the origional chapter ten was total BS that did nothing to progress the plot. So I deleted it. Hopefully this will help things move a little faster.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Ten: Return

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

The first thing Amon thought when he woke was that he was still sleeping. He hadn't felt this comfortable in a since he had been a child, before his mother had awakened as a witch. As he drifted in that halfway point between wakefulness and sleep, he thought longingly of when he was still small, sleeping with his head in her lap while she sang quietly and stroked his hair.

He did indeed hear singing, though it was not the lullaby he remembered from childhood. The hymn was soothing, however, and it took him several moments more to decipher that it was not his mother's voicing singing so beautifully into his ear, but another sweet soprano, less familiar but even more beautiful.

The singer also appeared to be stroking his hand through his glove. The tender touch was so comforting, he tried not to wake for fear of destroying the much needed and seldom found peace. At last, however, he couldn't resist any longer. He wanted to know who this apparition was. His sleep crusted eyes slowly opened, and he drowsily took in the angel before him. Blonde hair, done in two pigtails wrapped in green ribbon. Pert nose and pink lips, emerald green eyes. She had washed off the makeup while he was asleep, but that only made her more beautiful. He didn't know why she wore it, anyway.

Robin didn't know he was awake yet. She continued to sing quietly, absently rubbing the back of his hand with her fingertips. With the other hand, she picked at the faux fur of her leopard print skirt.

Strongly resisting the urge to wake up enough to remember why he was alone in a cheap hotel room with his most beautiful student, Amon closed his eyes again, figuring that he could fool himself into believing that he was still asleep and only seeing snatches of a perfect dream.

The perfect dream was shattered however when the sound of gunshots broke through the quiet.

Instantly awake, Amon sat up and in one smooth motion, grabing Robin around the waist and rolling them both onto the floor opposite the door. He held her down, pinning her to the dirty carpeting, and reached for his gun.

The gunshots stopped just as abruptly as they had started. Amon eased off his young charge, and she crouched low beside him. Amazingly, he noted that their hands were still joined. He caught her eye and squeezed her hand, signaling her attention to the window behind them. In an instant the panes went up in flames, and the two hurried through the opening as the factory workers burst through the Swiss-cheesed door.

Releasing Robin, Amon fished out his car keys and punched the electronic lock button. They dove inside for the second time in twenty-four hours, and sped off once more for the freeway.

Amon pressed his foot to the accelerator as hard as he could, weaving in and out of the early morning traffic. It was both a blessing and a curse that it was only five o'clock; while there was little traffic to get in their way, it was also that much easier for the factory to catch up to them.

Once more, Robin turned in her seat, preparing to stop them with her flames. There was just enough traffic however, that she couldn't do anything with endangering another driver.

They were approaching a viaduct; below them was a deserted side street.

"Amon! Get to the right!"

The car jerked to the side, and the factory van followed. It started to skid onto the burm from the sudden change, and Robin took advantage of this. She aimed for the tires, intending to make them burst and therefore using the momentum of the vehicle to send it over the guard rail, but her aim was off; she could make the fire come, but she couldn't tell it exactly _where _she wanted it to go.

Instead of hitting the tires, the fire went wide to the left, causing a minivan to got squealing into the grassy space dividing the two sides of the highway, and running two small cars off the road with it.

Unnerved, Robin turned back around again, praying that she hadn't hurt anyone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Amon was watching her.

She took a deep breath, then turned back to the van. This time, she gathered all of her strength—focused—

The road between the factory van and the two renegades burst into flames too thick and hot to drive through. Amon and Robin could hear the sound of squealing tires as the van tried to brake, and she watched in horrified fascination as the huge van—unable to stop—broke through the barricade, now covered in flames and swerving dangerously through all three lanes of traffic.

After scraping past a pickup and nearly bulldozing a compact car, the driver finally seemed to have lost control completely as the van veered right once more, rolling as it hit the ditch.

Robin watched the burning van grow smaller and smaller as they drove further down the highway, until the flames finally found the gas tank and the entire thing exploded.

00000

By the next night, Amon had emptied and closed his bank account and shredded his credit card. With his cell phone off, they were nearly untraceable.

The next day dawned clear and cold, coating the world in a thick layer of frost.

Sitting up, Robin looked over at the other bed. In it, Amon lay sleeping, though it was not a peaceful sleep. He had taken off his coat, tossing it at the foot of the bed, and removed his holster, though it was sitting on the bedside table, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. Even asleep, his brow was creased with worry.

Robin watched him sleep, trying not to stare; Amon seemed the sort of person who would wake up if she watched him too long.

Grateful as she was for everything he had done for her, she still was sorry for dragging him into the mess which had become her life. Car chases were okay in the movies, but in reality they were horrifying, and they weren't something she wanted to deal with on a regular basis.

And what of Amon? Should he go into hiding because of her? No, she couldn't tolerate that. Just as she couldn't stand the thought of spending the rest of her days on the road, running from an enemy without ever standing up for herself.

No, it was time to do something about it.

"Amon?"

There was no movement from the other bed.

"I think it's time for me to go back. I don't want to run anymore."

The hand on the nightstand twitched, but instead of picking up the gun, it moved a few inches to the right and picked up the car keys instead.

00000

"You lived here?" Amon asked, picking his way around broken furniture.

"For two months," Robin replied. Briefly, she explained how she had arrived at the airport to find no one waiting for her. Thinking there might have been a mix up, she had taken a cab to the address she had been given, to find that someone had gotten there first, and apparently carried off her host family.

"I wasn't sure how to explain it; what would I tell the police? I had just come to a new country, and I was scared, but I didn't know where else to go, so I stayed here, hoping that somebody would show up eventually. I wasn't sure what else to do."

Amon flipped the switch for the kitchen lights, but nothing happened.

"It's probably been shut off." She blushed. "We left before I had a chance to pay the bills."

"So we have no electricity, no water, no gas?"

"Technically, we don't have a house either, since I never paid the mortgage or rent or whatever, either. Though that bill didn't come, that I know of."

"It's possible that whomever lived here owned the house," Amon speculated. He continued the inspection.

"Oh, we also don't have food because I never got to collect my paycheck."

The glare Amon sent in her direction spoke of a very serious man trying very hard not to roll his eyes.

"Sorry. I didn't have any money."

_Well, if she was living here alone with no job, then it certainly explains a lot,_ Amon thought, recalling the day she had passed out in his classroom.

Robin continued, "That room there is mine. There are two other bedrooms; you're welcome to whichever you like. They're not trashed like this," Robin said, waving her hand at the living room and kitchen area. Really, the only signs of…whatever had happened were the over turned couch and a few other damaged pieces of furniture, and the hole in the sliding glass door.

And a few dozen bullet holes in the back wall.

Amon went to inspect the master and guest bedrooms and find a place to catch up on sleep, leaving Robin in the kitchen with her thoughts.

Coming back to face the enemy was easy enough in thought, but in practice it was much harder. To start with, she needed information. Unlike Zaizen, she didn't think she could just storm the school and not worry about the other students. No, she would have to figure out where to find him on his own.

Amon had said that when he hunted witches, the factory always came to take them away. Robin had a hunch that if she found out where the factory was, she'd be able to find not only Zaizen, but the witches taken away, and the answers to all of her questions.

The question was how to get this information. Amon had already told her everything he knew, even showing her the copies he had made of her file. Since he had abandon his post at the school, and his mission to hunt her, he wasn't receiving any new information. With no witches to catch, there was no reason for the factory to come to them, and hence, no way for them to follow them back to their origins.

Sifting through the pieces, Robin guessed that as Zaizen was the source of all this, that he would be the best place to start. Obviously, she couldn't just walk up to him and start asking questions. So maybe…

Well, Michael was quite adept at overriding the parental controls on the school computers, and blocking and redirecting the firewalls (she heard rumors that his freshman year, he had implanted a virus that had crashed all the school computers the week of midterms, giving the students a month and a half reprieve as grades had to be reconfigured. Of course, he had helped with _that_ too…)

Maybe Michael would be able to find someinformation on Zaizen's computer. If he was involved at all, he would have to have _something_ there.

Sure that by now Amon was most likely asleep, Robin slipped quietly out the door.

00000

It was lunchtime. Doujima was meeting with the other cheerleaders, practicing for the big game on Friday. Sakaki…well, Sakaki was watching.

That left Michael out in the quad by the well, working on his laptop and eating a bag of chips. It was still chilly out, but between his jacket and hoodie, he wasn't cold. It seemed spring was finally starting to reach the frozen city, now that it had reached April.

He tapped away at the keyboard, chuckling to himself at a comment someone had left on a message board.

"Michael!"

_Heh, this guys a little crazy. I wonder if I can get his e-mail address._

"Michael!"

_Maybe he knows some good sites I could check out…_

_"Michael!"_

"What?!"

Michael lept to his feet in surprise, his head whipping around the deserted quad, searching for the person who had called to him.

"Michael, it's me."

"R-Robin? Is that you?"

"Yes. Michael, I need your help."

"Where are you?"

"In the well."

Michael started to peek over the edge of the stone wall, but her voice stopped him.

"Please, don't act like there's anything strange going on. Someone might see you."

Pretending he had merely jumped up for a casual stretch, Michael sat back down, then asked, "So what is this all about? Where have you been? Why did you just disappear? Is Mr. Am—"

"I'm sorry, I don't have a lot of time to explain," she replied. "All I can say is that I'm in hiding now, and you don't have to worry about me. But I do need your help. Do you think you can hack into Principal Zaizen's computer?"

"Have you been talking to Mr. Amon?" Michael asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest in his computer?"

"I need information in something called STN or STN-J, and something called 'the factory,'" Robin explained. "Do you think you can do it?"

"Well, yeah, I could…"

"Thank you so much, Michael," Robin said, and even through the stone walls of the well, he could hear the rush of gratitude in her voice.

"Look…take care of yourself, okay?" Michael said hesitatantly. "Sakaki keeps asking what happened to you, and I know that Doujima is worried, even if she doesn't really act like it."

"And you?"

Michael felt warmth blossom in his cheeks. And in his chest and a few other areas, too.

"Yeah. I'm worried too."

Robin smiled to herself. "I'm fine. You don't need to concern yourself over me."

"You're my friend Robin, I—"

The bell rang then, cutting him off. "I need to go. How should I get that information to you?"

But he was met with only silence. Robin had already gone.

00000

"You left without telling me."

"Yes, I did."

Amon's arms were folded over his chest, his entire expression and posture oozing annoyance. He watched her through narrowed eyes, his jaw set and firm.

Inside, Robin was positively drooling.

"You can't just walk around like that," he stated. "It's too dangerous."

"Really? How would you prefer I walk around?" She demonstrated by sashaying her hips slightly.

A muscle over Amon's left eye began to twitch. Robin forced down a smile and a bubble of laughter.

"You need to ask me before you go out. You can't just go out on the street like you have been. You could easily get yourself into trouble that way."

"I'm sorry, would like me to ask permission for breathing, as well?"

It was all Amon could do to keep his temper under control. Why was she doing this? She was normally so quiet and sweet, and yet today she was acting like such a brat. He was ready to just smack her.

"Fine, do what you want."

Biting his tongue, Amon turned on his heel and left, slamming the front door behind him.

In the living room, Robin stood, fuming.

_What is wrong with him?_ She wondered. She was ready to scream with frustration. She had been trying to _help_, for heaven's sake! And now, here he was, scolding her for it, not even letting her explain and making her act like a spoiled little brat.

A lot like Doujima, in fact.

If only she could get his attention, in a way that _didn't_ make that cute little vein twitch.

00000

A/N: So yeah. Drastic changes.


	11. Bang

A/N: Chapter has been edited. Not a whole lot in the way of changes. Once more, I own nothing.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Eleven: Bang

A Witch Hunter Robin Fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

The man was stealing her bike.

_Her_ bike.

Her ride across town and back home.

Robin approached the thief, who was grinning stupidly to himself as he picked at the lock. He looked up as she advanced.

She stopped in front of him.

She lowered her sunglasses.

And she Glared as she had never Glared before.

And the thief made a run for it, nearly getting run _over_ in the process.

As she peddled away, Robin ginned to herself. Spending all that time pissing Amon off was definitely worth it.

00000

Amon certainly didn't seem to think so however. When Robin arrived back at the house, he was waiting, throbbing vein and all, wearing the very glare she had tried so hard to imitate just a half hour before.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" he asked.

"I was wearing a disguise," Robin said, trying to defend herself.

"Sunglasses do not count as a disguise. If anything, they make you even more noticeable."

Robin was about to make a cutting retort, but caught herself. For the past week, it felt like all they had done was argue. In the morning, it was over how late she slept. At noon, it was all about her habit of sneaking out and getting out of the bloody house for a change. In the evening, it was over dinner; instant ramen vs. actual food (Robin in favor of the later, having survived on ramen for the better part of a month; Amon argued that if being hiding was supposed to be comfortable, more people would do it. Robin argued that they probably did but no one knew, as they were hiding), and at night it was over whether it was safe to leave the lights on (Amon had arranged to have electricity).

And in between, there were a hundred other little things.

_We got along so well at school. What happened?_ Robin wondered. Instead replying to his cold tone, she dropped her grocery bag on the counter and began making dinner.

00000

Amon knew exactly what was wrong.

He liked her a little too much.

He wondered at first when she didn't try to defend herself further. Secretly though, he was glad. It was hard enough trying to fight the factory, without fighting Robin, too.

He took a seat in the dinning area, opening his laptop, which he had retrieved from the apartment, along with clothing and some other supplies, while Nagira was at work.

Even though the screen was open, he just couldn't get his mind to focus on the work in front of him. Instead, his eyes kept wandering to the slim figure by the stove.

She had finally gotten her normal clothes back, though at the moment she was wearing leggings and a fitted black shirt, mostly for safety sake since she had been biking.

As she stood there cooking, he felt like an old pervert with a housewife fetish. Here he was, watching a fifteen year old make dinner, and all he could think was that she looked so terribly…_domestic_, hardly a word he would use to describe Robin Sena, the quiet girl who sat in the back of his classroom and wrote beautiful poetry.

And he couldn't help but find something about her, about the whole situation, to be incredibly sexy.

By the time Robin was spooning dinner onto plates, he still hadn't accomplished a thing.

Except getting a really---well, that wasn't really a conversation appropriate for the dinner table.

He moved his laptop out of the way as Robin set his plate down.

Instant ramen. With pork and a salad.

When he looked up and saw her smile, he decided they needed to compromise more often.

00000

Amon pulled his shirt over his head, searching for the boxers he slept in. He knew he had left them on the lampshade, but for some reason they weren't there.

"Looking for these?"

Amon whipped around. Robin was standing by the closet door, the missing fuchsia boxers hanging from her fingertip. A smile which could only be described as "sultry" curving her lips.

"Robin, what are you doing?"

The girl sashayed up to him, stopping when they were only inches apart. "Waiting for you, what else?"

Amon was about to speak, but found himself unable to as a suddenly very nude Robin pushed him down on the bed and began to—

Amon sat straight up in bed, sweat pouring down his face. A cold shower was in order; yes, it was _quite_ necessary.

But at least it had been a highly unrealistic dream. He always folded his boxers neatly and left them under his pillow, though he probably wouldn't do that with this pair.

And they weren't fuchsia, obviously.

They were magenta.

00000

Amon came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and wearing a fresh pair of boxers (black this time).

As he passed the blonde couch, he—

Couches don't come in blonde.

Turning, Amon spied Robin, sitting quietly, sipping tea and reading. She glanced up at the same time he turned around, and their eyes met.

Amon raised his eyebrow in question.

Robin replied with the same gesture.

_Right…I'd have to explain why I had the sudden urge for a shower at 2:30 in the morning._ He decided it was best to just let the subject drop.

Robin (mercifully dressed in a black tee shirt) continued to watch him for a moment, the closed her book, setting it on the coffee table. She stood, taking her tea and going back in the direction of her room.

"Did I wake you?" Amon felt the words slip out of his mouth before he could stop them. His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silent house.

"No, I was up anyway."

_Her voice…_ he thought. It was once more a whisper, soft and gentle. She was back to being the calm, quiet girl who read poetry and distracted him on his lunch hour.

His eyes trailed back to the coffee table and her book. _His _book, actually; it was the destroyed copy of his poetry book that she had borrowed, what felt like years ago. He noted that she had taped the pages back together.

He turned back to Robin. She was no longer walking to her room, but standing in front of him, watching him, as though waiting to see if he had anything else to say.

_Hm, but he never does,_ Robin thought. She felt herself smile ever so slightly. _Neither of us does. That's probably why we argue over nothing; we can't find a way to say the important things. But that needs to change._

Robin set her cup of tea on the counter, drawing up her courage. She took a step closer to Amon.

His eyes narrowed, but it wasn't really a glare, just his habitual expression, one of thought. _He's curious._

Another step. The furrows of his brow went a little deeper, his perfect mouth opening ever so slightly. _He's confused._

One last step, and they were only a few inches apart. Amons expression had changed yet again, just by a hair. Now his face bore the slightest hint of…fear.

"Good night," Robin said. Then, raising herself to her toes, she placed a quick, light kiss on his cheek.

When she pulled away, Amon's grey eyes were open wider than she had ever seen them. She couldn't read his expression; Amon himself didn't seem to know what he was feeling. Shock seemed to be winning though.

Robin started to turn, thinking she should probably make a quick exit and pray that in the morning he chalked it up to a very strange dream, when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back around.

His expression was still so surprised that there wasn't room for much else, but when he pulled her close, pressing her lips with a hard, deep kiss, she decided he was definitely happy.

00000

Robin did not want to get out of bed.

Bed was a good place to be when one spent half the night reliving the most amazing (and, okay, in Robin's case, her first) kiss.

Absently, she rubbed the fingers of her right hand together, remembering the feel of Amons soft, damp hair wound between them. He had pulled her so close that she was almost lifted off the floor; had she been any shorter, she would have.

Robin wasn't really sure how she had expected Amon to taste, but she was sure reality was better. There was the scent of soap and shampoo, the sweet flavor of Amon, tinged with the slightest smoky taste.

And he did this really cool thing with his tongue…

Robin grinned broadly rolling over in bed. Amazing. Simply amazing.

She was _very_ glad she had left the monastery.

00000

On the other side of the wall, Amon was thinking something very different. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep after the kiss, and had instead paced around his room before finally getting dressed (and neatly folding his boxers) and surrendering to the day.

_Why did I do that?_ Amon asked himself, over and over. _This is such a mistake._ The worst part was that now he had to inform Robin of the mistake.

He _really_ wasn't looking forward to that.

He could hear her stirring in the next room. He walked the length of his own for the thousandth time, then turned and came back to the window before repeating the process. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to find a way to word things that she could grasp, without offending her. As his fingers reached the nape of his neck, however, he paused. That spot, right there at the base of his hairline…Robin had found it without even trying. The same sensitive spot that had taken Touko weeks to find. Just the thought of the light brush of Robin's fingers over his neck was sending shivers down his spine.

Now he could hear her in the kitchen, making herself some breakfast.

He needed to do this now before he lost his nerve.

00000

Robin poured milk over her cereal. She was up much earlier than usual; probably because her stomach was still doing flip-flops from the night before. She was just about to take a bite when there was an urgent sounding knock on the front door.

Robin's hand froze halfway to her mouth. Amon came out of his room, glancing at her before moving cautiously to the front door. While Robin was armed only with a spoon, Amon had his pistol out and ready. And he seemed somewhat eager to blow the head off of whoever was on the other side of the door.

There weren't any windows near the door, so Amon simply ripped the door open and aimed at the head of their guest.

"AAAAH! Please don't kill me!"

"Michael!"

Leaving her cereal on the counter, Robin ran to the door, ducking under Amon's arm.

Sprawled on the front walk was a terrified looking Michael, papers strewn around him on the ground.

Robin offered him a hand and helped him gather the documents. Amon continued to stand ominously in the doorframe, though he did lower his gun.

"What are you doing here?" Robin asked.

"Well, I found your house that one day, and you never told me how I should get that information to you, and I didn't hear from you again, so I decided to check here," Michael replied nervously, eyeing Amon over Robin's shoulder.

"What information?" Amon asked.

"I asked Michael to get information on the Factory," Robin explained.

Amon silenced her with a look, and ushered them both into the house quickly. "That's not something you can talk about out in the open," Amon said, closing the door firmly behind them. "You can bet Zaizen has people watching us."

"Actually, according to what I found, that isn't really the case," Michael replied, his courage building a little—he was much more confidant with information than with guns. Especially when someone else was holding the latter.

Robin led him to the living area, and motioned for him to take a seat; she took one nearby. Amon remained standing, arms crossed over his chest. This time, he really _was_ glaring, though Robin wasn't sure if it was intended for her or for Michael. Probably both.

Michael pulled out the sheaf of papers and a cd. "I was poking around Zaizen's computer, and I found something strange. I know it's not unusual for teachers and administrators, especially, to have access to the school network at home, but while I was searching his hard drive, I noticed that he had linked two computers to the school server, and they were in completely different locations. I double checked them with a map of the area—" he pulled out an internet map, showing the city. There was a large red star at one point on the map. "The star shows the location of one of the computers. It's in a residential area, and it corresponds with the address listed for Principal Zaizen on the district web page."

The second sheet he pulled out was a satellite image of what appeared to be trees. A building was just visible among the foliage.

"I checked to location of the second computer, and this is what it came up with. There was no address matching the location I found, so when I punched it in, all that came up was a satellite image of the road." He pointed to the building. "This building here isn't supposed to exist."

"That doesn't prove anything," Amon said, though he had his suspicions as to where this was leading.

"It does if you read between the lines. Networks can be used in many ways; For the school, it's mostly to get into specific accounts. Zaizen's computer, however, has access to _all_ school accounts, plus the security cameras. Also, the link between his office computer, his home computer, and the one here is a slightly different kind of network. From what I found, both the home and office computers are specifically linked to information on this one."

"Why would that be important?"

"Well, first of all, when I checked the hard drive of the office computer, I couldn't find anything dealing with STN or the factory or any of the stuff you told me about," Michael continued. He pushed his glasses a little higher on his nose. Excitement was edging into his voice as he got to the major parts of his discovery.

"I actually came across the link to the mystery computer by accident; it had been buried in a bunch of other files, and required a complex password to access.

"That is unusual. Generally networks are intended to make accessing information easier," Amon said. His posture began to relax as he became more intent on what Michael was saying.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Michael replied. "So I hacked into _that_ computer. I managed to download about three percent of the files on that hard drive."

"Only three percent?"

"Well, first of all, there was a lot there," Michael replied. He held out the disk. "But more than that, I got thrown out. And whoever kicked me out aimed a virus at my computer. A _killer_ virus that would have had my hard drive literally smoking if I hadn't updated my firewalls last week."

"So he's rather aggressive about keeping that information confidential."

"To say the least. As it was, my hard drive crashed. I transferred the files I downloaded onto my laptop, and scanned them for viruses. About half of them corrupted immediately, but I managed to salvage some of them. They shouldn't do any harm to your computer, but a few of them are mostly computer-eese—all wingdings and stuff—so I don't know how much you'll be able to get out of them." He handed the disk to Amon.

"I assume you examined the files before burning them?"

Michael grinned misheiviously. "Well, yeah…I mean, going through all that trouble, crashing my computer—I'm still not sure if I'll be able to recover any of my files, by the way—I had to know what it was all about."

"Give me the Cliff's Notes version."

"I'm not one hundred percent on this, but from what I managed to piece together, the factory is the name of that building" he pointed to the satalite photo, "and it is a prison/asylum/science lab, all in one. The prisoners/patients/lab rats are called 'witches.' They are considered dangerous to society, and are arrested by members of STN-J.

"After that, things start to get weird. From what I read, it sounds like most branches of STN take their orders from something or someone named 'Solomon'. I think that those witches are usually killed, but I'm not sure.

"The odd thing is that STN-J doesn't seem to kill the witches, at least not directly. They take them to the factory, where they imprison them.

"There were some files on there that seemed to be research projects and results—genetic experiments, mostly. All of them performed on the captured witches, creating something called orbo."

"What's 'orbo?'" Robin asked.

"I don't know. That wasn't one of the things I was able to recover." Michael swallowed a lump in his throat, casting a sidelong glance at Amon. "I did find something really disturbing though," he continued. He looked over at Robin. "The school…It seems to be an extension of the factory and STN-J. All of the teachers are listed as employees of STN-J. They run the school in order to find young witches, and eliminate them before they come into their 'craft;' whatever it is that makes them so dangerous that they have to be hunted like animals and arrested." Another glance at Amon, who was down giving Michael a look that could easily kill.

He turned his attention back at Robin. "You can't stay here Robin," he said. "Not with him. He's supposed to either kill you or turn you into a bad science experiment."

There was a clicking noise from Amon's direction, the sound of a gun being leveled and cocked.

"Robin, please, you have to get out of here! I put it all together—the weird stuff at school, they way you disappeared, everything! If you don't get out of here he's going to kill you—"

"Amon! No!"

_BANG!_

A/N: Yes, I am horribly evil.

I hope you all liked this one. The first six pages or so were written in one shot around 4:30 in the morning.

Oh and um, the next chapter is started. But you're going to have to wait, because I'm sadistic like that. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bloopers and typos for this chapter:

"He moved his laptop out of the way as Robin set his plate down.

Instant Robin. He decided they should compromise more often." (That made me giggle. Just add water! The question is, what is she wearing? Sorry; I have a very dirty mind when I'm short on sleep.)

"The quiet girl who sat in his room, reading poetry…" (I decided it would be a good idea to specify _class_room, in this case, just because of his train of thought…)

And yes, I laughed my $$ off while writing Amon's dream sequence.


	12. Friendly Fire

A/N: WHR isn't mine. I'm too broke.

Chap has been edited.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Thirteen: "Friendly" Fire

A Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fic

By Yuriko Tsukino

There was a clicking noise from Amon's direction, the sound of a gun being leveled and cocked.

"Robin, please, you have to get out of here! I put it all together—the weird stuff at school, they way you disappeared, everything! If you don't get out of here he's going to kill you—"

"Amon! No!"

_BANG!_

Robin tried to push Michael out of the way, knocking him to the floor, and in the process got in the way of the shot herself.

"Robin!"

Michael crawled over to her. She was on her knees, clutching her arm near the shoulder, blood dripping from between her fingers.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to peel her fingers away in order to get a better look.

"I'm fine," Robin hissed. "It's only a scratch."

Michael was unceremoniously shoved out of the way as Amon knelt beside the wounded girl. He pulled away her hand, gently tugging at the tear in her sleeve so as to see the injury better.

She was indeed correct in naming it a scratch, however; though it was deep, it wasn't deep enough to require stitches, as the bullet itself was lodged in the wall behind her. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, tying it tightly around the wound to stem the bleeding.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. He could have fallen over and died right there if he had actually hurt her. As it was, he wanted to beat his head into a brick wall for being so stupid.

It was all that dumb brats fault. If he hadn't started running his mouth about things he knew nothing about, this never would have happened.

Michael watched this exchanged rigidly. Amon was faking, he knew it. He wasn't concerned about Robin's welfare at all. He was just out to hunt her. If he was worried about her, there was no way he would have fired his gun for no good reason.

Robin looked over at her friend, taking in the worried expression on his face. "I'm fine, really," she said. "Amon wouldn't hurt me."

"How do you know that? He just shot you for crying out loud!"

"I was aiming for you."

"I know he wouldn't," Robin said. She slipped her hand into Amon's. "He's been protecting me all this time."

Michael stared at their joined hands. Amon was still quietly fussing over Robin, pretending the Michael didn't exist.

"No way…" Michael whispered. "The rumors were true…"

Already pissed by Michael's previous accusations, Amon was not about to listen to anything else the boy had to say. Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, Amon opened the front door and tossed him unceremoniously on the front walk.

"You can come back when you're not jumping to conclusions," he said, slamming the door.

Outside, Michael was trying not to have an aneurism at the thought of Robin, alone with that _monster_, doing who-knew-what. Though the part of his brain that was hyped on fan fiction and Mountain Dew had _plenty_ of ideas to throw out.

00000

"You still didn't need to shoot him!"

"He was being a moron. It was pissing me off." Amon stalked into the kitchen. He could really use some coffee.

"Amon—" She tried to grab his sleeve, but he jerked his arm away. She grabbed on again, tighter this time, forcing him to turn.

"I don't want to argue with you," she said, green eyes wide and doe like as they stared into his.

Again, Amon pulled away.

"Did I do something wrong?" Robin asked. "Why are you being so cold now?"

_Don't look at me like that,_ Amon thought. She was so sweet, so plaintive; he almost could bring himself to break her heart.

Almost.

"I'm not being cold, I'm treating you like I always do," Amon replied. He forced his expression into perfect neutrality, and coated his words in a layer of ice. "If you think that we are suddenly friends, you are mistaken."

"What…?"

"The only reason I'm here is because I disagree with Zaizen on this one matter. I acted rashly, and now I can't return to my position at the school. Once you are cleared, things will return to the way they were."

Robin's eyes grew wide as she took in his meaning. "Then last night…"

"Was a mistake."

Deciding coffee was no longer the matter of greatest importance, Amon reached for a coat and swept out the door, slamming it behind him before Robin had a chance to protest.

00000

Robin found a secluded place in the park in which to sit and think. She could feel tears building up behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had known this would happen, after all. No one would want a freak of nature like her. She had been crazy to think Amon would be anything more than a protector. Even that seemed a stretch now.

His cold words were still ringing in her ears. She rubbed her arms to try to warm herself from an inner chill, but her efforts were fruitless. Not even the fire could warm her.

All it did was destroy.

All she did was destroy.

Robin tucked her knees up to her chin and tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground. She hadn't even realized it at first, but this was the same place where Amon had found out her secret. She still flushed a little in embarrassment at what she had done to him.

But that didn't really matter now, did it? Their relationship was strictly platonic; they weren't even friends, according to him.

It was so strange. She had wanted friends when she was in Italy, of course, but it also hadn't really bothered her to be alone. Books kept her company, and a monastery wasn't really the best place to form close friendships. Most of the monks ignored her, just as her classmates had.

But now she knew what friendship was. And she had a taste of what it might be like to have something more.

And for the first time, Robin acutely felt how alone she was.

And for the first time, she was really, truly, lonely.

00000

When Amon returned to the house in the early evening, he found it empty. None of the lights were on, and it looked as though the building had been empty for several hours at least—Robin's breakfast dish was still on the kitchen counter; if she had been home for any length of time, she would have washed it, meaning she must have left directly after he did.

That had been several hours ago, however, and it was now after dark. Quite late, actually.

Amon was trying to focus on the part of himself that was annoyed. That stupid little girl was being oversensitive and had run away because he had been mean to her.

It was awfully hard to ignore the other part of himself, however, that blamed him for Robin's disappearance, and was worried sick.

Actually, the worry was quickly drowning out both annoyance and blame.

Amon realized he was pacing again, and that he was quickly wearing a path through the kitchen and living room.

Disgusted with himself, Amon reached once more for his coat and practically ran out the door.

00000

Robin wasn't sure what time it was. She had never really been one to wear a watch, as the time had been signaled by the bell tower in the monastery.

She didn't remember dozing off. In fact, she really didn't remember closing her eyes, though she supposed that after crying she must have. What she did know was that it was completely dark out now, and she was stiff and cold from sleeping in a sitting position on a rather hard tree root.

_I need to get back_, she thought, and pulled her protesting body into a standing position.

It was then that she realized how quiet it was.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she held perfectly still, waiting. Something wasn't right.

The ground around her began to glow, the symbols of the craft illuminating the area. The character "raido" appeared at the center of the wheel of Ogram, then, as she watched, the runes around it changed, morphed, and became the character for death.

Suddenly, the quiet forest exploded in gunshots. Robin blocked many of them the best she could, but for some reason her fire wasn't stopping the bullets. They blew through her defenses, one of them hitting her in the shoulder and knocking her off her feet.

Robin hit the ground, unable to move. It was like her entire right side was paralyzed. When a stray shell landed near her, she realized why—the runes engraved on the casings were locking her powers and her body. She was completely helpless.

Panic quickly turned to terror, and Robin covered her face with her good arm as a bright light she knew spelled her doom illuminated the forest.

0000

A/N: sorry if Amon seems a little ooc in this chapter; I've been watching/reading a lot of Saiyuki, and Sanzo's personality keeps leaking into Amon's character.

In case you are wondering, the wheel of ogram is the name of the magic circles used in the series. Raido is the name of the R shaped character, which shows up in some of them, especially the ones that threatened Robin, around episode 13 or 14.

Arigato for reading!!

Thanks to Sparky16, Jasmine3883, mZk0rEA, young wiccan, In True Meanings, and Ayjah for reviewing the last chapter. I hope you guys don't hate me too much for that cliffhanger! (or for this one for that matter.)

Please review!!!


	13. Progress

A/N: Edited. I own nothing.

HEARTS DESIRE

Chapter Thirteen: Progress

A Witch Hunter Robin fanfic

By Yuriko Tsukino

Robin covered her eyes to block out the light, but her arm was torn away when someone grabbed her hand, dragging her off in some unknown direction.

Scared and with her bearings off kilter, Robin couldn't defend herself; she couldn't even think what direction to send the fire in.

The spots that had clouded her vision began to fade, and she was able to pay attention to where she was going. She caught glimpses of trees and benches, a snatch of lake, and began to put together her location.

She followed the hand at her wrist up a black clad arm, to a broad shoulder and a handsome face capped with long, dark hair.

"Amon!"

He glanced back at her briefly, tightened his grip for an instant, then grasped her hand in his, their fingers weaving together.

Amon led her through the woods, until they came out under a streetlight at the sidewalk. Without pausing, he pulled her several yards down the road, until his car came into view. They hurried inside, and he peeled out, passing one of the gigantic black vans as they slipped onto the back roads that would hide them easily.

Robin released the breath she didn't realize she was holding when the van didn't follow.

Michael logged out of his computer and stretched. _Nine o'clock already?_ He thought in wonder. He had stayed after school to finish up a project, but he hadn't expected it to take so long. He really should have left three hours ago; it was surprising that the custodial staff hadn't thrown him out, but with his headphones on, he probably wouldn't have heard them anyway.

He shut down the computer and packed up his bag quickly.

The lights in the hall were off. The only illumination was the moonlight coming through the windows, and the emergency lights where the halls intersected.

The quiet was eerie. Michael had never really stayed after school before, and when he did it was only for detention. The atmosphere was heavy, and he tiptoed through the hall. He had the distinct impression that he wasn't supposed to be there.

He turned a corner and heard footsteps from one of the smaller halls. Thinking it was the night janitor, he kept walking, until he realized it was two sets of footsteps.

"…kill her."

Michael stopped dead, his ears automatically straining to hear more.

"It's being seen to as we speak. Killing her may not be necessary unless Amon gets in the way."

He ducked into the restroom so he could listen unseen.

"Of course, having her alive _is_ preferable, but we could easily do many of the same tests on a corpse."

"You wouldn't be able to test a corpses power, however."

The speakers came into view. Michael gulped when he saw one of them was Principal Zaizen. The second man was younger and wore a suit that spoke of extreme wealth; Michael didn't recognize him.

Zaizen shrugged. "True. But her genetic information is what we're most interested in. If he gets in the way again, I'll simply have him killed, too."

"I thought Amon was one of your top hunters? Didn't he bring you some of the most important witches for your research?"

"His loss will be…regrettable, but he chose his fate when he ran off with the girl. I will simply find another hunter."

They moved out of ear shot then, rounding another corner and getting further away. Michael swallowed hard.

"I have to find Robin!"

00000

It was four o'clock in the morning.

_Four o'clock_.

Robin was doing her best to stay awake, but was still failing miserably. Amon was on his second pot of coffee, still typing away diligently on his laptop as though it was mid afternoon.

Robin jerked her head up for the millionth time. She had nothing to do but watch Amon work, yet at the same time, she didn't feel right going to bed.

He looked up from his monitor briefly. "Just go to bed already," he ordered.

She shook her head to clear it. "No, I'm fine." She could tell he didn't believe her, but he didn't challenge her, just went back to his computer.

He propped his chin in one hand, his brows pulling together slightly in frustration.

Robin was just nodding off again when there was a knock on the door.

_Wha…? Who would come here? And this late?_ She wondered, rising to answer it.

She pulled open the door.

"Robin!"

"Michael?"

Before she could react, he had entered the room and had thrown his arms around her neck.

"I'm glad you're safe," he said, stepping back. "I heard Zaizen talking, and he said—"

Michael was cut off by a hand grabbing him roughly by the collar and dragging him into the apartment, practically throwing him across the room.

"What are you doing here, Lee?" Amon demanded. The boy nearly wet himself when he found his teacher pressing a gun to his forehead.

"Amon!" Robin grabbed his wrist, pushing the gun away from her friend. "Stop it!"

"I—I came t-to see if I-I could f-find Robin," Michael stammered. "I looked up her address in the school computer, a-and I couldn't sleep, so I came here. I wasn't planning on actually coming in, b-but the light was on, so I knocked, and…"

Amon slid the gun back into its holster while Robin helped Michael to his feet.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We've both been on edge lately."

"I heard Zaizen say he was going to have you killed, or captured. Something about getting your genetic information—"

Robin shook her head. "He's wanted me dead for some time now."

"But why? And—and Mr. Amon—" Michael lowered his voice. "You can't trust him. He turns people in to Zaizen so they can be killed."

"I know," Robin replied. "He's been taking care of me. He told me everything."

"Bt why does he want you dead in the first place?"

"I-"

"That's enough. You don't have any business here, Lee," Amon said testily, grabbing Michael by the back of the collar again and dragging him towards the door.

"Amon, wait," Robin said, grabbing his wrist again. "Michael can help us."

She looked into his hard gray eyes. She knew Amon couldn't get the information they needed to move forward, but Michael could, and she knew he would keep their secret.

At least, she hoped. As long as he didn't run away screaming when he found out what she was.

Amon released him. "You won't breathe a word of this to anyone, or I'll kill you, understand?"

Michael gulped, but nodded.

"You need to hack into Zaizen's computer system again," he said. "We need information."

Michael nodded again. "He never noticed the last time. I can get in easier now. Just tell me what you want to know.

"But first tell me why he's trying to kill you and Robin."


End file.
